


Maple Leaves

by orphan_account



Category: LazyTown
Genre: But he doesn't really care, Dark Undertones, Dark!Sportacus, Gen, Glanni Glaepur, Glanni is fabulous, Like replace yo kids with changlings kind of fae lore, M/M, Magic, Pron in Ch 7, Robbie is a witch, Slow Burn, fae lore, Íþróttaálfurinn - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Robbie didn’t notice the elf until it was far too late for anyone.He'd had a quiet life in the world of Man so far. But this...this could mean disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Кленовые листья](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183868) by [nbr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbr/pseuds/nbr)



> First Lazytown fic and it is, of course, going to be dark as all heck. I'm going off Elven Lore based in Seelie and UnSeelie Courts. Not cute, pixie-dust wielding bell wearing. Warriors, manipulators, ancient. Tricksters that rule their courts with ruthlessness. 
> 
> Sportacus is that kind of elf. Just for reference. He also goes by "Spencer" when he's interacting with humans. So, theres that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter banners are done by http://nobear-tmblr.tumblr.com/ ! Go check them out! And thank you SO MUCH for letting me use them!

When Robbie was young, he lived with his mother. She followed The Olde Rules. A small cabin, hidden from the eyes of mortal men. Where she plucked mushrooms out of fairy rings, and mixed poultices to aid the forest fauna. She was a Witch of the Wilds, a being of myth and legend now.

 

Robbie knew she was real. She was, after all, his mother. And she was old, and she was wise. And she knew much about the forest. She knew much about the things Man called myths. Like dragons, and witches.

 

And the most dangerous of all, the Fae.

 

 _They’re deceivers,_ she would say. He would watch her mix a batch of something in a cast iron pot. He never knew what, and never knew who she mixed it for. _They come to snatch children away and replace them with their own kind. They warp the minds of Men and make them dance to death. If you consume something from them, you become theirs forever. A toy, a plaything. If they aid you, never thank them, for then you are in their debt. Never make a bet with them. Stay away from the Fae, my little Robin._

 

There were many kinds of Fae. Nymphs, and Sprites, and Pixies, and Fairies. Kelpies, mermaids, ogres and...and Elves.

 

 _But beware the Elves,_ Mother had said. _For they run the Seelie and Unseelie courts. They are wickedly smart, and vicious. Manipulative and talented beyond your imagination. They rule the Fae, my Robin. And they are the most dangerous to Man, for they most resemble them._

 

She taught Robbie magic. Spells to help the plants grow. Wards to keep himself safe. Charms to protect others, and elixirs to heal hurts and help with sleep. But Robbie was not like his mother. He was young, and naive, and talented with his magic. He was curious, and had seen bits and pieces of the world of Man.

 

When he was older, stronger, and independent, he packed a satchel and a foot locker full of things. He would live in the word of Man, with it’s shiny cars, and moving pictures, and Malls.

 

And Cake.

 

She watched him from the door of their hut. He could feel her eyes on him even as he left the Forest. Even as he ventured into the city, even as he made Men think leaves and twigs were money.

 

Even today, he could feel his mother’s eyes. He did his best to ignore them.

 

 

The city is a nice place. Robbie likes it. He moved when he was barely twenty, and now, twenty eight, he was relatively well versed in the day-to-day life of Mankind. Now and then he could be a little...mm, awkward. Not quite on point. But if he got a few odd looks, that was fine.

 

He had ended up working in an office building. A few magicked papers, and a lot of charm later? He was one of the lead campaign officers for the company’s advertising. He had a talent with making things--art, machinery, videos. He found the same came with computers, and he loved working with them. They had so much potential. They opened portals to things he never imagined, and were the cornerstone in how he grew to learn to meld with human habits so quickly.

 

When he’d first started, it was in a shabby little apartment. Now though, he’d moved out of the city itself into the suburbs. It was quieter, but still full of life. Not empty, like the Forest, but not a litany of never-ending noise, like the city center. He enjoyed the suburbs.

 

The house he had found was in a little neighborhood called Lazy River. The ages were heavily mixed. A couple of kids lived on his block, and the HOA head did as well. There was of course the neighborhood nosy neighbor, and the stereotypical ‘we kicked our ball into your backyard sorry’, but over all Robbie was left alone. A quiet neighborhood, where he could tend to a garden, watch television, and work on his computer from home.

 

It was bliss. Life was good, and magic-free, and _normal._ Until _He_ came.

 

 

It was summer, bright and hot. Robbie was out in his front yard, doing his best to talk his Japanese Maple into living through the season. It was wilting and complaining about the heat, and he made sure to water it daily. Really though, it was just whining. The Maple liked attention, and Robbie would give it. With it’s luscious violet-red levels and spindle arms, he felt kinship with it.

 

But he _absolutely_ did not _whine_ like that silly Maple.

 

“You complain about it every year,” he chides under his breath. The tree rustles its leaves at him indignantly, but it’s reply is drowned out by the sound of children. He looks up from where he’s re-mulching to see them running in the street.

 

Trixie, Pixel, Stingy, and...those other ones. The girl in a pink dress and the sticky blond. They were newest on his block, so he didn’t know them that well. But he knew the other three well enough to know to keep an eye on them if they got too close. He didn’t want any broken windows.

 

“Robbie Robbie!” The kids hurried over, Trixie in the lead, her hands curling over his fence. “Guys, this is Robbie. Robbie, meet Stephanie and Ziggy!”

 

“Hi,” the pink one waved cheerfully. The blond mumbled a hello around a lollypop. Robbie sighed to himself and sat back on his heels, arms crossing.

 

“Hi,” he offered bluntly. “What do you brats want now?”

 

“Come play with us!”

 

“Yeah,” Pixel chimed. “We’re playing soccer and we need another goalie.”

 

“I do not ‘play’,” Robbie reminded. Pixel groaned and Trixie huffed.

 

“I _told_ you so,” Stingy whined.

 

“That’s okay,” Stephanie chimed in. “We could play Horse instead? Ziggy’s got a basketball hoop right?”

 

“Oh yeah!” Ziggy nodded. “I do! We can get my dad to set it up. Come on!” And off they went. Robbie wrinkled his nose after them. Kids.

 

He liked most everything about Mankind. Except...kids. They were too loud, and too sticky and leaked.  And were...short. Bleck.

 

After a while he got back to mulching, and didn’t think anything else of them. What he didn’t realize, nor notice, was that the kids found someone else to be goalie before they could get to the basketball hoop. Ziggy’s house was around the corner, so Robbie didn’t notice the blond the kids ran into.

 

He didn’t notice the way the blond smiled at them, and introduced himself as Sportacus. Or the way he was more than happy to play with them. That he was new around here, and the kids were gleefully naive enough to invite him along.

 

The kids didn’t notice the pointed ears hidden beneath that shaggy hair. All they saw was a young adult, willing to play, who could do flips and hand-stands and could spin a soccer ball on his finger. Almost like magic.

 

Robbie didn’t notice the elf until it was far too late for anyone.

 

 

Days pass. It stays moderately warm outside. Sometimes, if he’s in the mood, Robbie would go outside with his laptop to work. His back porch was wide, and he had a nice little table and chair set up. Under a beach umbrella, with a cool soda and his graphics tablet, he could get a lot done _and_ enjoy the outside air.

 

Summer being summer, Kids were always out. He didn’t think anything of them.

 

About two weeks after the new kids showed up, he noticed a blond man with them when they played. There was a park in the center of the neighborhood, which his back yard faced. They’d swing or play in the soccer field, and their chitter and laughter became a familiar background hum as he worked.

 

The blond man looked like Ziggy. Robbie assumed he was a parent, or some relative, and never blinked.

 

One month in, the kids decided to pester Robbie. Not on purpose, Trixie and the others knew better than to wear on Robbie’s nerves. But occasional accidents happen, and today was just that. Occasional.

 

An accident.

 

He was reading through a proposal when he heard the shout of “oh no”. That gave him just enough time to look up and receive a face full of high-pressured water. The water continued for a moment before it ended abruptly, and Robbie could sputter and open his eyes.

 

All five of the kids were staring, and the tall blond was behind them, staring too. Each one of them had water guns, and the girl in pink--Stephanie?--had hers up and aiming at Robbie. Apparently she’d meant to hit Pixel, but, well.

 

“Uh-oh,” Stingy mumbled and slowly inched his way behind the taller Pixel. Ziggy looked about ready to bolt. Trixie started laughing.

 

Robbie coughed before standing, eyes doing down to his soaked shirt and jeans. His hair was coming out of its style and he could see bits of it hanging in his face.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Stephanie covered her mouth. “I--I was aiming for my friend but I missed--”

 

“And hit me, yes.” Robbie shook his hands off before slowly approaching his fence. “With a water gun. Do you know how expensive that computer is?”

 

“I really am sorry,” Stephanie took a step back. That’s when the blond man stepped forward, toe to toe with Robbie across the fence.

 

“It was an accident, Stephanie was just playing a game. See?” The blond, oddly accented considering, lifted the water gun he himself was holding. “We were playing tag, but with the water guns. Why don’t you come and play with us?”

 

“Yeah!” Ziggy chirped. “You can be it, and you get to spray somebody else!”

 

“I don’t--” Robbie paused. The blond man, his eyes. They were beautiful--they sparkled like a creek, and the corners wrinkled when he smiled. He was shorter than Robbie but most people were. This man though had his voice catching in his throat. How odd.

 

Stephanie looked between the two men, her friend smiling serenely while Robbie looked...kinda funny.

 

“This is Spencer,” Stephanie elaborated. “He--”

 

“And his superhero name is Sportacus!” Ziggy cried. “The fasted, most amazing super hero ever!”

 

“Super hero?” Robbie lifted a skeptical brow. Spencer, he supposed to call Blond Man, laughed gently and looked away to smile at Ziggy.

 

“I don’t know about that, Ziggy--”

 

It was like a spell had been broken. Robbie found himself shaking himself off and staring at Spencer with a renewed fascination. When the man turned his head, just barely through his damp hair, he saw it. The sharp, short point to his ear.

 

 _Beware the Elves_.

 

“No,” Robbie interrupted. Ziggy went quiet and all eyes turned back to him. Abruptly, and with much surprise from Spencer, Robbie yanked the water gun out of his hands. “I do not _play_. I think you’ve done enough today, brats. Go home before I call your parents.”

 

“But--” Trixie tried.

 

“ _Go away_ ,” Robbie sneered. Stingy squeaked and ran first, ever self preservative. The other kids muttered and followed. Stephanie tugged gently at Spencer’s arm.

 

“Come on.”

 

“I’ll be right there,” Spencer patted her hand. “I will meet you all at Pixel’s. We can play ping pong.” Abruptly, Stephanie’s sour mood vanished and she smiled, all nods and okays before taking off after the other kids and informing them of the new play plan. When the kids were out of sight, Robbie threw the water gun behind him and pointed at the man in front of him. Spencer still hadn’t looked back at him, smile warm after the disappearing children.

 

“Listen, Robbie--”

 

“You,” Robbie pointed. “You stay away from them. You’re way out of your domain, Elf.”

 

Spencer turned to him with shock on his face. The shock melted to irritation, then surprise, then faded into something else. A smile, a _smirk_. The corner of the blond’s ticked up, the shine in his eyes changed. He went from being playful and cheery to...something else entirely.

 

Robbie had never met an Elf. But there was something dangerous about the way the man leaned against his fence and into Robbie’s personal space.

 

“You can See.”

 

“Yes,” Robbie took a hesitant step back. “I was raised with the Sight. Your ears gave you away.”

 

“You won’t tell them, will you?”

 

“I won’t have to, because you’re going to crawl back under the hill you crawled out of.”

 

“Ah, but I don’t intend to. I like it here.” With ease, Spencer vaulted over the fence. Robbie looked horrified. “What’s so surprising? Your _wards_? They’re for pixies.”

 

“You’re not taking those kids.”

 

“But I like them.” The blond approached slowly, eyes roaming over Robbie and his soaked lazy-day clothes. “They’re cute. Stephanie is special, there’s magic in her. The others are young. Youth is valuable.”

 

“I won’t _let_ you take them, let me rephrase.” Robbie pressed his finger into the man’s chest. The Elf tipped his head, almost curious. “I know Old Magic.”

 

“And my magic is older.” Spencer curled his fingers around Robbie’s wrist and he felt it then--the sudden shock of power. Rooted to the spot, all he could do was watch the smile grow on the blond’s face. His eyes were dark, predatory.

 

_Beware the Elves._

 

“You’re made of magic,” Spencer cooed, voice low and warm. “How interesting. Listen, _Robin_ . I’m established here. You aren’t far from my domain, and I intend to take this are as mine as well. It begins with the children, the adults are too old. But if the children enjoy _me,_ they stay. And if they stay, they obey. And as they become adults and have children, well. Their numbers rise. They make deals. They owe debts.” Gently, Spencer lifted a hand to kiss Robbie’s knuckles once. “They become mine.”

 

 _I won’t let that happen_ , Robbie thinks. His mouth doesn’t move, he can hardly breathe. Spencer hums, eyes dropping down to the hand he held. Slowly he spread Robbie’s fingers, feeling them, their lengthy boniness.

  
“We could make a deal,” Blue eyes lifted again, mischief clear. Robbie felt a fear he’d never known in his life. “I will leave the children be. And in exchange, I’ll take you instead. You’re magic, despite it’s youth, is strong. I could use that. What say you?”

 

“Nay.”

 

“I like you,” Spencer grinned, eyes going a little wider. “Don’t get in my way, Robin. Take this is my warning. What’s mine is already mine, and if you meddle with it? I’ll bring a halt to it. My Court, they’re loyal. And they are many.” He rested another kiss to Robbie’s knuckles.

 

When Spencer let him go, Robbie felt his knees give out. He sucked in a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, watching as the elf bent down to pick the discarded water gun up. The blond wiggled it with a cheerful smile.

 

“I need to get this back to Stingy.” With a salute and a rather surprising backflip, the elf was off. “Nice to meet you, Robbie!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinforcements arrive on Robbie's end. Sport is a bit leery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the delay. This is sort of just a filler, the third chapter is already half done. Sorry about that. @.@  
> I got very ill, and then the Holidays happened and it's just been crazy. I'm hoping for weekly updates!
> 
> The chapter banners are done by http://nobear-tmblr.tumblr.com/ ! Go check them out! And thank you SO MUCH for letting me use them!

Spencer--for now we’ll call him, his latest name adjustment--expected reinforcements from the Witch. He’d been found out, quickly but still well after he’d dug his roots into this place. The Witch was young, and somewhat selfish, but he was wiser than Spencer liked. So he expected reinforcements.

 

Less than a week after their exchange, Spencer takes the real Stephanie. She’s sweet, and smart, and young and naive. She’s young enough that he can manipulate her memory, make her believe the Court is her home. He wants her magic, and entrusts her to one of his many advisors for training.

 

The Fairy he’d chosen as her replacement fits in _perfectly_. She’s aware of what she is, but she plays the role of Stephanie well. She’s sassy, and smart, and more than happy to sleep in a cozy bed and be fed regularly by the Meanswells. And, just in case, Spencer now has immediate back-up should the Witch get lucky.

 

Three weeks after he first meets Robin--Robbie--Spencer gets a surprise. In the form of Robbie receiving company.

 

Finally, the back-up arrives.

 

 

The kids are playing Pirates on the jungle gym in the park. Spencer sits at the top of the play palace, in what Ziggy has designated the ‘jail’, and his goal is to rescue him. Suits Spencer fine. He dangles one leg over the landing and chews on an apple he’d brought with him and surveys the neighborhood.

 

Robbie is working on his porch again. He has every day since they met. Spencer smiles around a mouth full of his apple and wiggles two fingers in Robbie’s direction. The emanating feeling of _get out_ flutters out of the wards. How cute.

 

They’d left each other alone for the most part. Spencer made a point of convincing the kids to play where Robbie can see them, so he knows Spencer is rooting deep into their lives. And yet Robbie does nothing but watch, eyes dark. It’s intriguing if not a bit dissatisfying in a way. Spencer loves to play, has always enjoyed Cat and Mouse. Robbie is strong, if young, and he likes that. He likes Robbie. Sometimes he catches himself thinking of just...knocking a child out of the monkey bars, or offering one the wrong kind of berry. Anything that could convince the Witch to make a deal.

 

But he doesn’t. He’s patient, he can wait. Or so he thought.

 

That third week, he’s in ‘jail’ and eating an apple when Robbie receives a guest. The man is tall, like Robbie. And dark, like Robbie. But he emminates his power so _strangely_. He wears his magick on his sleeve--you know it immediately. Even Stephanie pauses down below to look at the man coming around the corner of Robbie’s house, before turning her eyes up towards Spencer. He waves at her to keep playing, and keeps his eyes on the new man.

 

Robbie was powerful, but it was like he and his magic were always arguing. His magic was subdued, almost suppressed, as if he didn’t want it but didn’t know how to not use it. This man, though...this man wore it like a cloak. Draped the magic around himself, coaxed your eyes towards him.

 

Spencer sat up to watch. The new man and Robbie met at the gate and exchanged some words he couldn’t hear, even when he asked the wind to bring them to him. They both looked over at Spencer, one smiling and one frowning, before they both disapeared into Robbie’s house. Spencer didn’t like that.

 

He’d never met a Witch who _wanted_ to be found out.

 

“Hey kids,” He looked down through the slats in the play palace. “Did I tell you my brother is coming into town? Would you like to meet him?”

 

Talking Ithro into accompanying him would be a long shot, but he needed a second opinion. The Fae he’d chosen to replace Stephanie was strong, but two Witches from Olde Magic? That was a little concerning, so close to the court.

 

The shouts of the children faded into background noise as Spencer looked back at Robbie’s house.

 

Trouble.

 

 

Mother had been _horrible_ after Robbie had called her. He’d had no other ideas what, exactly, he could do. An Elf was one thing, one wanting to steal children was another. He may not be a protector of any forest but. Can you imagine the ruckus if those kids went missing? Police everywhere. Constant interviews. Sirens.

 

Ugh.

 

Still, his mother had been beside herself at the mere mention of _elves_.

 

“ _I’m sending your cousin,_ ” she said insistently. “ _He specializes in Fae. I would come, my Robin, but our forest needs me here. He will assist you._ ”

 

Which only meant more trouble. Perhaps the Sirens would be preferable.

“Mother, I’ll be fine,” Robbie had told her. “I just need you to send me a few books on your wards--”

 

“ _Nonsense, Robin,_ ” She cooed. “ _You’ll have your cousin there. It’s better, I promise. You’ll have help. There is never just one elf, and if he rules a court? There are more beasts than just he._ ”

 

“But--”

 

“ _It’s not a discussion, darling. It’s a fact._ ”

 

So Glanni showed up, when Glanni felt like it. His cousin always did things at his own pace. Truthfully, Robbie had never met any other family. His mother never mentioned her parents, or the Forest she regaled from. She never mentioned his father, nor any siblings. Only Glanni, who came to visit occasionally during the summers. He was older by a few years and by some unspoken decree, also never mentioned family.

 

It was a little weird, but Glanni himself was an odd duck. Robbie didn’t see himself wanting to ask too many questions.

 

 

The Elf keeps an eye on Robbie, and Robbie an eye on him. They don’t speak, but the Elf, he flaunts. He plays with the children where Robbie can see. Nothing ever remiss--he never offers the children any food, or to take them to the trees.

 

But he smiles at Robbie, too. Convinces the kids to go and ask him to play (he declines). Each time they come away looking less hurt and more annoyed. Trixie actually stuck out her tongue--

 

“They’re turning against you,” A smooth voice cooed. Robbie looked away from the Play Palace, the Elf sitting atop it like a king, to his visitor. Glanni leaned against his fence and watched the children. He stuck out _awfully_. A long, heavy coat lined in mink, a sun hat that nearly entirely hid his face against the fur lining. A bag rolled along behind him, no handle attached.

 

He screamed ‘look at me, I’m not normal’. Robbie wanted to chuck his tablet at him immediately.

 

“Glanni,” he offered instead and stood. Glanni grinned and looked over at his cousin. “I’m glad you finally decided to show up.”

 

“I had work,” Glanni hummed. “You look like an old man, little cousin.”

 

“And you look like one of those Purple Hat ladies.”

 

“They’re fabulous.”

“You’re not. Come on,” Robbie motioned. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

 

“Which isn’t a lot, if Auntie is being honest.” Glanni easily stepped over the fence, all long leg much like Robbie himself. “Is it the blond?”

 

“On the top? Yes. He goes by Spencer, or Sportacus apparently.”

 

“Neither are his name, he’ll never give you that. Their names are powerful and if you give them yours, you might find yourself under their spell. I advise you refrain.”

 

“He knows I’m Robin.”

 

“Well, lovely. Don’t tell him more.” Glanni swiped his hat off his head and handed it to Robbie, who looked put off. “Anything else?”

 

“We’ll talk inside.” They headed for the door, and Robbie nearly got bulldozed over by the self-propelled bag. “And do try to be inconspicuous. I live here.”

 

“I’ll do what I please--oh, is that Devil’s Food?”

 

 

After cake is cut and coffee is made, Robbie sits downa cross from his cousin. Glanni makes his kitchen chair look like a throne the way he sprawls in it, eating tiny bites and sighing with every one. Robbie is not so interested in delicacy, just cuts off a chunk and stuffs it in his mouth. Glanni wrinkles his nose at him.

 

“So,” Glanni breaks in. “The Elf.”

 

“Spencer. Sportacus. Whatever,” Robbie agreed. “Yes. He showed up a while ago, he wants the kids.”

 

“They all want our children,” Glanni hummed around another dainty fork full of cake. “It’s their shtick. They want them for toys, they collect them like dolls. Make them do menial tasks, and eat silly things. The kids grow about a third as fast when past a Fae Veil, so they stick around.”

 

“But _why_ do they want them?”

 

“Funsies? I don’t know.” Glanni chuckled. Robbie pouted. “They like owning things. Their lives revolve around charms, gifts, grudges, and deals. Debts are a bit deal. A favor? Even more so. You _never_ want to owe a Fae either. But if you can outsmart them into owing you one? Let me tell you, fun times abound. I had this Selkie up north who--”

 

“How,” Robbie cut in. “Do I make him go away?”

 

“Ah, there’s the real question.” Glanni’s eyes glittered. “Do you know where his Veil begins?”

 

“...No?”

 

“Then the first step is to find that. Well, that’s the second step. First step will be warding your house. This attempt is just...sad,” he wrinkled his nose at the wall pointedly.

 

Robbie gave the side of his cousin’s head an exasperated look and took a long draw from his coffee. This would be a very...very long...however long this lasted. He was already exhausted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you chapter three was pretty much done. :D  
> Thank you everyone who has commented and given me kudos, I can't thank you enough. ;3;
> 
>  
> 
> The chapter banners are done by http://nobear-tmblr.tumblr.com/ ! Go check them out! And thank you SO MUCH for letting me use them!

“Good morning, Robbie.”

 

Robbie looks up from his tablet. Once again, he’s out on his porch  _ far _ too early, because he’s the only one with a brain in his neighborhood. Glanni was up late presumably enhancing the wards, but considering the Elf is leaning against the fence so casually, Robbie’s starting to wonder.

 

He seethes a little. 

 

“I see you have a new friend,” Spencer smiled at him brightly. “Who are they?”

 

“No one you need to know,” Robbie snapped. It was too early for this, and he had only had one cup of coffee.  _ One _ . The pout that settled on the Elf’s face was so face it made him want to bite a chunk out of his mug. 

 

“I’m just trying to make some polite conversation,” Spencer huffs playfully. His pout becomes a smile and he leans his elbows on the fence, bent at a perfect 90 degrees at the hip. “The kids and I, we’re going on a picnic today.” That must have gotten the reaction Spencer wanted, because he beamed. Robbie felt ice water settle in his belly. “There’s a clearing I know about. We’re all making food and bringing it. Would you like to come?”

 

Oh, Robbie thinks. A double edged sword. An offer of food from a Fae. A refusal usually included ‘no thank you’. Never thank the Fae, Robbie thinks, and wrinkles his nose.

 

“I think it may rain,” Robbie offered instead. “Perhaps you’d best stay inside, hm? No gallivanting around in the woods.”

 

“Oh, but nature is fun!” Spencer tilted his head and his eyes trailed down. Robbie felt distinctly too warm suddenly. “It’s fun to learn about the local wild life,” Spencer continued before dragging his eyes back up to meet Robbie’s. 

 

“Looks like rain,” Robbie said again, stiff, and absently drew the lapels of his robe closer together. He watched the mirth fall right off the Fae’s face in favor of a scowl.

 

“Robin,” Spencer cooed. “It’s a clear day.”

 

“I beg to differ,” Robbie snapped. Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line before he lifted a hand to rub viciously at his hair. “It looks like rain.”

 

“No, it doesn’t,” Spencer stood and crossed his arms, hair just a bit fluffy from the tousling. Robbie was compelled to touch it, it looked so soft--no. Bad Robbie. “It’s clear.”

 

“It’ll rain,  _ Spencer _ ,” Robbie snapped the cover of his tablet shut and stood. “No picnic today.”

“From where I’m standing, it's clear. Why don’t you come here and let me show you.”

 

They faced off, and Robbie once again felt rooted to the spot. If Glanni hadn’t enhanced the wards, Spencer could just leap over and approach and yet he’d made no move to. Didn’t even seem to cross his mind, which was curious. At this distance, the glamour the Fae could use to control you didn’t quite reach. Robbie shouldn’t be so transfixed.

 

“Little cousin,” Glanni slunk out onto the porch in nothing but his satin pants. Both of Spencer’s eyebrows went straight into his hairline. “Who is your friend?”

 

“...Glanni, this is Spencer.” Robbie managed the words despite the fact he felt like he was melting. When Glanni touched him, the feeling evaporated like smoke. Spencer looked  _ furious _ . “Spencer, my cousin.”

 

“It’s a pleasure,” Glanni bowed dramatically. “If you don’t mind, I need to steal my cousin for a moment.” With a pause, he motioned for Robbie to step inside. “It looks like it may rain, anyway. I don’t want you getting sick, sweet cousin of mine.”

 

“Offer stands,” Spencer bit out. Robbie gave him a look before the two dark haired men disappeared inside the house. Almost immediately the sky grew dark and opened up, dumping torrents of water onto the landscape. Not your typical rainstorm for a town so far north.

 

The first drench of cold water made Spencer shudder, gasping a little as his hair plastered itself over his eyes. Instinctually he lifted his arms, trying to keep them away from his soaked shirt. Through the sheet of his hair he could see Glanni just inside the glass door of Robbie’s house looking at him with a smug satisfaction.

 

A challenge settled at the elf’s feet. He bared his teeth briefly, which seemed to make Glanni laugh. 

 

“Accepted,” Spencer hissed. He shook his arms off, sending water flying, but considering how much more was pouring out of the clouds it was of little use. He smoothed a hand back through his damp hair and sloshed his way around the park towards the street, shoes creaking. Fine, no picnic. He’d improvise. 

 

Oh, but Glanni had to go.

 

 

“He’s touched you,” Glanni intoned. He was standing across from his shaken kin, stirring cinnamon into his coffee. “I didn’t notice the glamour.”

 

“What glamour?”

 

“Exactly,” Glanni pointed with his spoon. “You wanted to help the kids, but have you ever actually stepped in to stop their playing?” When Robbie went to argue, Glanni cocked a brow. Robbie shut his mouth and Glanni tucked his spoon into the sink. “Precisely. You’re fine  _ now _ , but next time don’t be such an idiot.”

 

“I’ve never met an elf before--”

 

“Clearly.”

 

“How was I supposed to know not to touch him?”

 

“Because he’s  _ fae? _ ” Glanni sipped his coffee. “It’s basic logistics, little cousin. Be that as it may, you’re  _ welcome _ for the rain. He knew you were blowing smoke.”

 

“I wasn’t--”

 

“You were.” The elder of the two set his mug down and crossed his arms. “Listen, Robin. I’ve made the little bastard angry. He’ll start using tricks first, little things. Mostly to annoy. He’ll want to confront you outside the wards where he can get to you. If he can touch you, he can manipulate you. Understand?”

 

Silence settled. Robbie turned away to go into the living room and Glanni watched him, eyes sharp. “I’m only trying to help.”

 

“You’re shit at it,” Robbie called over his shoulder. Glanni cackled.

 

 

“If you don’t mind my saying,” Stephanie leaned into Spencer’s space. The elf looked up from where he was doing push-ups. She cocked her head at him. “You seem less happy than before, Master.”

 

“The rain,” Spencer snapped, going back to his reps. She hummed and cocked her head the other way, fingers lacing behind her back. “Robbie’s done it.”

 

“I assumed. You’re quite obsessed with him.”

 

“I’m not. He’s interfering with my agenda.” 

 

“Mm,” she reached down and patted his head. He paused and gave her a scathing look, which she smiled at. He could almost see her wings wiggling happily, the little glitter bomb. “Perhaps I can help?”

 

“I’m waiting for Ibro to finish what he’s been settling with the Drow in the south,” again Spencer took back up to his reps. “Robbie has added some additional wards I can’t cross without some difficulty.”

 

“Can I help?”

 

Spencer paused. He glanced over his shoulder, the other children playing a sports game on the television. Stephanie had taken to the video games the children were absorbed with but Spencer...still wasn’t quite used to the technology. The children were suitably uninterested in he and Stephanie, so he sat back on his knees. She smiled innocently.

 

There was a reason he kept her around. 

 

“I think you can,” Spencer smiled. The kids started to call to her and she hurried over, eyes bright, as she was handed a remote. Outside, thunder rolled. The sound dampened Spencer’s mood further, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he went back to his push-ups.

 

 

Spencer leaves before eight, between one passing storm and the next. Stephanie agrees to meet him at the gate that night, and he bids the children farewell, before making his way south towards the trees. He stops only once, paused, outside the front of Robbie’s house.

Robbie was at a window, but wasn’t paying attention. It looked like he was reciting something, or talking to someone, but he couldn’t see who. Likely Glanni--the name itself made Spencer’s skin crawl.

Still, Robbie was...relaxed. His hair was loose around his ears, and he was wearing a sweatshirt with a hood. Suddenly, Spencer saw something  _ else _ . Saw Robbie, wearing a crown made of posies, pupils wide and laughing off a goblet of wine. Amethysts curled in gold filigree around his neck, bare feet kicking up dust as he danced to a Midnight Band. 

Wild, surrounded by the glitter of the forest. The moon would be heavy, swollen full and shining bright to fill their party with just enough light to stumble drunkenly into their dens when the wine had run dry.

Something settled in his chest, solid and possessive. Mine.  _ Mine _ , Spencer mouthed, surprised at himself.

It took him a moment to realize Robbie was staring at him out the window as if he’d been called.

Well, now isn’t that interesting. For a moment Robbie looked confused, shook himself, then seemed to realize who he was looking at. Spencer smirked and wiggled his fingers at him. That is, of course, when Glanni appeared.

The man looked savage, bared his teeth at Spencer, only reinforcing the challenge from earlier. Abruptly the curtains were yanked shut, cutting off his view of Robbie entirely. Spencer headed for the trees with more of a pep in his step this time, hands settling in his pockets. 

 

 

“What happened?”

 

“What?” Robbie blinked owlishly. Glanni was squinting at him. “What--what?”

 

“Elegant,” Glanni sneered. “Just now, what happened? You just stopped and when I looked outside--” A pause. “What did you see?”

 

“I--didn’t?” Did he? Spencer maybe? Yes, definitely. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and looked at the window again as if he could see through the black-out curtains. Fear shocked cold up his spine. “Why?” When he turned back to Glanni, the man was frowning. 

 

“He was staring,” Glanni offered. “You both were. When he touched you, did he give you anything? A charm, a necklace, a stone?”

 

“No--”

 

“You don’t have a glamour anymore,” Glanni muttered mostly to himself. “...I wonder.”

 

“I don’t like it when you think,” Robbie deadpanned. “You get a creepy smile--yes, that one.  _ That one _ .”

 

“I wonder,” Glanni repeats, then pats Robbie’s cheek gently. Robbie scowls. “I’ll see you in the morning, little cousin. And whatever you do? Don’t go outside. Especially if you hear singing.”

 

“Singing?” Robbie watched his cousin ascend the stairs. He wished he wore more than tiny satin shorts for pajamas, it was kind of gross. “Why would I hear singing? Glanni?”

 

“Goodnight!”

 

“Glanni stop being a cryptic asshole!”

 

“I’m asleep,” Glanni’s door shut with a finite ‘click’. Robbie scowled deeply at the stairs. Mother loved him, he reminded himself. She sent Glanni becauses he’s good with Fae. Presumably. Briefly, before Robbie follows his cousin’s lead, he turns to look back at the window. Singing?

 

“Right,” Robbie sighed deeply to himself. The lamp clicked as he passed by, sending the house into darkness, and by habit he stepped over the third stair to avoid it creeking. Singing. Don’t listen for singing. Why would he hear singing? Would Spencer sing? Why would he  _ want _ to go outside if he did? Besides to kill him. Or throw a shoe at him. Or both.

 

Even an hour later, nested in his messy bed and staring at the ceiling fan as it rotated lazily over his head, he couldn’t sleep. His mind raced, and he...feared. He didn’t feel safe. Salt, sage, charms, spells. Wards. He had all of them up. Glanni had reinforced them.

 

He still didn’t feel safe. 

 

When he dreamed, he dreamed in blue.

 

 

_ “I’m sorry,” Stephanie whispered. The moon was high, the rain gone. She was sitting by the the gate ad craddling her hand to her chest. Spencer paused long enough to inspect and heal it. The wards were strong, they’d burned her. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I tried to break the circle but it--” _

_ “It’s alright,” Spencer ran his hand over her hair. “Go home, Stephanie. We’ll try something else.” _

_ “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, afraid of having upset her court head. He just shook his head and looked up at the house, looming large and dark above them. The wards were more now than even when he had seen Robbie in the window. The fence was hard to even look at, let alone approach.  _

_ “Go home,” Spencer urged. She nodded and fled back to her human home, tears silent. Spencer stood and crossed his arms. The house was dark--too dark for him to notice an eye peeking between the curtains at him as he left. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not believe how many times I've re-written this chapter. I still don't know if I'm happy with it but I'll worry about that later, I needed it out of my brain. @.@
> 
>  
> 
> The chapter banners are done by http://nobear-tmblr.tumblr.com/ ! Go check them out! And thank you SO MUCH for letting me use them!

Sportacus lifted his arms in an ‘x’ to block, just in time, when another arm comes down hard on him. He grunts, digs his feet into the dirt, and lunges. His brother stumbles only a fraction before he’s back again, a wooden baton in one hand. It matches Sportacus’ own, and he has to bring his up with both hands to block his brother’s next blow. And the next.

 

Ithro had arrived early in the morning. The first thing he did besides shedding his gear was wake up his brother and haul him through the labyrinth of hallways to one of the training rooms. 

 

Sportacus wasn’t exactly awake yet, but was growing more so by the moment. For now he played defensive, parrying blows and blocking if he could to allow his elder brother work off the extra energy of lengthy travel. Ithro was taller, broader than his little brother, but Sportacus was smaller and more agile. 

 

The mistake was made of yawning between one blow and the next. With an inelegant squeak, Sportacus felt his feet fly out from under him and all the air leave his lungs abruptly when he landed heavily on his back. The muddy-green eyes of his brother swam into view, along with his grin.

 

“I win,” Ithro sing-songed and poked Sportacus gently in the forehead before hauling his younger sibling to his feet by the back of his tunic. “We’ll go again.”

 

“And we’ll talk about my human issue when?”

 

“When I’m done pummeling you,” Ithro chirped. “You can show me this house with these Witches.” He tossed Sportacus the baton he’d dropped when he fell. “Now, get into a stance, little brother. I won’t go so easy on you this time around. I hope you’re awake.”

 

“More than enough to beat you,” Sportacus grinned. Ithro adjusted his shoulders before coming at him again.

 

 

Robbie glares at his cousin, who is sitting suspiciously quiet across the kitchen table from him. Glanni adds a touch of cocoa powder to his coffee, and Robbie just keeps stirring his even though the cream and sugar have both been sufficiently combined. Still, minutes pass in silence. Glanni is usually oh so talkative. 

 

Robbie’s about to beat him with his own mug when Glanni finally sighed.

 

“We’re out of coffee,” he muttered before taking a sip. Robbie paused and turned his attention to the whiteboard list they keep on the fridge. It’s full, from eggs, to bread, to cereal, to milk. Cheese. It had been that way for a few days now. When Robbie looked down at his own coffee, he wondered if someone could subsist entirely on it. 

“We have to leave at some point. As  _ lovely _ as your house is, I want to get out. Get a drink maybe.”

 

“And risk attack?”

 

“Listen. Robin. Snookums. Sweetheart. Babyface,” Glanni set his mug down with an unimpressed look that had Robbie bristling. “If that little pointy-eared nuisance wanted you  _ dead _ , you’d have been dead a long time ago. I think we could probably make a trip to the supermarket.”

 

“But--”

 

“I could make porridge again?”

 

Robbie stood so fast he knocked his chair over. Glanni grinned, triumphant. “I’ll go get my things,” Robbie hurried away before Glanni could really think about making something like actual food. Glanni happily stood and went out onto the back porch, basking in the hum of his magic so strong all around him.

 

Eventually Robbie leaned outside to tell him to come with him. With a sigh, Glanni finished his coffee and joined Robbie inside, then too the garage and finally into the beat-up little wine colored sedan he owned. Truth be told, Glanni loathed the thing. But, he wasn’t driving so he didn’t complain too loudly.

 

 

“They left this morning,” Stephanie offered. “I saw them drive away.”

 

“They’re outside the circle?”

 

“Mhmm,” she nodded and absently rubbed her hand, the one from the night before. Spencer took it between his own and turned it over for inspection. He’d done a haphazard healing job on it, more concerned with someone seeing them or hearing her crying. Or the residents of the house noticing her--he needed her here. It looked well, but he could sense her discomfort. A little bit of healing magic made its way to the tips of his fingers and he began massaging gently. “Not sure where they went.”

 

“Who’s this?” Ithro approached from behind. Stephanie ducked her head politely in greeting, and Spencer didn’t bother giving him a look. 

 

“She’s my Changeling,” he offered. Ithro gave the chains on the swings a look before crouching down in the mulch instead. Spencer had spent more time on the Iron side of things. Ithro was the internal conflict diplomat. Spencer had a way with humans--he’d gotten used to the vague sourness of the air when it came to iron structures. “She was injured last night.”

 

“The wards are sound,” Ithro offered as if to agree. “A perfect circle. I can hardly tell you what color the house is.”

 

“It’s brick I think,” Stephanie offered and winced when Spencer dug his thumb into a sensitive spot. “Ah--”

 

“Sorry,” Spencer kissed her knuckles gently before glancing sideways at his brother. “Well?”

 

“Well,” Ithro dropped a hand back so he could settling into a sitting position. Bother Spencer and Stephanie turned their attention to him. “There are two sets of wards. One to keep us out, clearly. There’s another though, a concealment charm. There’s something in that house that someone doesn’t want us to see. Or someone.”

 

“Robbie?”

 

“I’d assume.”

 

“He’s nothing outstanding,” Stephanie offered. “I’ve been talking with the other kids, and he’s just Robbie.”

 

“Perhaps he owns something,” Ithro offered.

 

“Like what?”

 

“That is the main question,” the elder elf huffed a breath. “Why is she here?”

 

“I hurt my hand, so I played sick,” Stephanie shrugged. “I didn’t have to go. And I figured I could continue to help, if just a little.”

 

Spencer sat back, careful to lean his back against the chain only where his hooded sweatshirt would separate him from the iron. He kept his head tilted forward and away, not watching to singe his hair. Silence bloomed between the three of them before Ithro sat up curiously. 

 

“How much hold do you have on the adults?”

 

“More than enough, why?” Sportacus lifted a brow. Ithro looked pleased.

 

“They’re Fae-proof wards, little brother. Not man-proof.”

 

 

“But it has fruit in it.”

 

“Freeze-dried fruit,” Glanni explains imperiously. Robbie continued to look wary, holding his box of Reeses Puffs tightly. Glanni just rolled his eyes and tossed a box of Special K into the cart. “Trust me, Robin. They’re like tiny candies.”

 

“But it’s fruit.”

 

“Candied fruit.”

 

“Freeze dried is not candied,” Robbie set his own box into the cart more delicately. Glanni was already halfway down the aisle though and snooping through the cookies. This, at least, they could both agree on. Cookies were essential nutrients in their lives for...some reason. They ended up getting a couple of different kinds (butter cookies, some Devil’s Food cookies, and of course chocolate chip). And of course stopped to get some fresh cookie dough too, because obviously.

 

Robbie was talking to himself, discussing the merits of getting chocolate milk, strawberry milk, or vanilla almond milk (a secret vice of his) when Glanni went ramrod straight. Robbie blinked and turned to his cousin, who had gone uncharacteristically still. Carefully he tucked the milk back into the refrigerator on the aisle, sensing that he may not have time to put it away later. 

 

“Glanni--”

 

“Drop it.” Glanni grabbed his wrist and abruptly  _ yanked _ Robbie away from the cart. Robbie protested weakly, mostly caught off-guard. His cousin was booking it, stronger than Robbie imagined he would be. Glanni used some basic magic to make people move out of their way without really noticing them. The trip to the car took a record amount of time. “Unlock it. We’re going home.”

 

“Okay,” Robbie scrambled for his keys, dropped them, then bent to pick them up. Glanni actually growled. “What the hell--”

 

“Oh nevermind!” Glanni hit the car with the flat of his palm, and the engine roared to life. The doors unlocked and flung themselves open with such force that it left dents in the cars on either side of them. And Glanni got in the drivers seat. “Now, hurry!”

 

“What the  _ hell _ is going on?”

 

“Someone’s broken the circle.” Glanni doesn’t even bother to wait long enough for Robbie to get his door shut. They’re tearing out of the parking lot at high speeds. Robbie clings to his door and the center console for dear life. “The wards are down.”

 

“ _ How _ ?”

  
  


“I don’t know. I just felt it break.” Glanni didn’t even pause for a red light, causing more than one car to jump the curb in an attempt to veer out of the way. Robbie screamed the entire rest of the way home.

 

 

“Thank you, Uncle,” Stephanie smiled. Milford, the head of the HOA, just smiled and nodded with a dazed expression after having worked open Robbie’s front gate. Stephanie nudged him gently to send the glamoured man back towards his home before turning her attention to her Court Masters.

 

Ithro was already creeping up the sidewalk, watching his step carefully. Sportacus was tapping at the fence, surprised it didn’t hurt him. She took up a place next to the younger brother to tap the fence as well.

 

“How did you know the circle was the fence and not something inside it?”

 

“The fence is attached to two sides of the house. They wouldn’t have been able to get any salt between it and the house itself. Thus, fence is circle. Only thing that wraps around the entire plot.” Ithro stopped at the front door. He whispered to it, fluttered his fingers, and little sparks of gold darted out and into the lock. The tumblers rolled and knocked together before the door itself swung open. “We won’t have long, the Black Mage will know the circle’s been broken.”

 

That prompted Sportacus into motion, hurrying up the walkway and into the house. It was...surprising, to say the least. It was clean. It was empty. Well, mostly empty. The living room had an orange chair that was one of the  _ worst _ things Sportacus had ever seen, and a love seat that was made from the same fur, but purple. A TV was mounted to the wall, and that made up the living room.

 

The kitchen had a fold-out table. And the kitchen counters were absolutely covered in...things. Machines, trinkets, inventions, and parts. There were some tables in the back of the living room, too, that were covered in parts and tools. 

 

“You’re sure he isn’t Fae.”

 

“I’m young, not an idiot,” Sportacus stepped into the house further. It smelled...warm. Like spices, and candy sweets. A little like hairgel, maybe. It smelled like Robbie, and isn’t it interesting that he knew exactly what Robbie smelled like. He didn’t remember taking notice before. “He’s no Fae.”

 

“I’ll look upstairs,” Ithro turned and vaulted up the wooden steps two at a time. “See if I can find anything the Black Mage has of value.”

 

“I’ll look too,” Stephanie wove her way further down the hall. It left Sportacus alone, standing in the entry way between kitchen and living room. Robbie’s living room.  _ Robbie’s Den _ . The air around him seemed unhappy, heavy, like it didn’t want him there. Then again, this wasn’t his Den. He hadn’t been invited in, and it belonged to a mage. Not surprising it wanted him out.

 

He ventured forward anyway, slowly lowering himself into the chair. The scent was overwhelming--cologne, gel, candy. Sweet and heady, warm and spicy. It made his anxiety pass and coaxed him to relax. It felt as if his eyes had just barely closed before he was being shaken awake abruptly. 

 

“Sport,” Ithro hissed. “Up.  _ Now _ , they’re coming back.”

 

“Hurry! They’re around the corner,” Stephanie came running back into the house. Sportacus hadn’t even heard her  _ leave _ . Had he fallen asleep?

 

“Go,” Ithro yanked Sportacus up by the back of his vest and the three of them went running from the home. They were just rounding the corner of Stephanie’s house when they heard the wail of tires screeching to a halt, a sedan pulled up haphazardly into the driveway. 

 

 

“Shit,” Glanni breathed. He all but threw his door open and hurried over to the fence. 

 

“You do know I get newspapers,” Robbie carefully exited the car. He felt a bit like his legs were jello and his stomach wanted to come flying out of his mouth and run away forever. Honestly, that’d be a blessing at this point. He’d never been on any sort of ride that had made him so sick.

 

Glanni would not be driving again for the foreseeable future. 

  
“And sometimes they go in the gate.”

 

“They broke it, Robin. Not just opened the gate,” Glanni stopped. Sure enough, one of the panels of the fence had been snapped in half, pointing inwards, and the gate was wide open. “They knew to break part of the fence, not just open the gate.”

 

“But it’s Fae-proof, right?”

 

“...” Glanni lifted his head and turned, looking down the street. No sign of them, no tracks, nothing. He felt his hackles raise before rushing through the gate and towards the  _ open _ front door. “Stay here.”

 

“What--”

 

“Stay here, little cousin. If they’re in the house, I’d rather have a word where you won’t hear me.”

 

“...You--I  _ am _ an adult,” Robbie snapped. Glanni ignored him entirely and vanished inside the house. Robbie scowled and crossed his arms, kicked at a stone by his foot, and then leaned his hip against the fence to wait. “I am,” he muttered to himself.

 

“You are,” Spencer agreed.

 

“Thank you,” Robbie looked pleased for exactly five seconds before his face fell. He whipped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, only to come face to face with the flouncy blond elf. “Oh, no.”

 

“Welcome to my side of the fence,” Spencer cooed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay one, everyone needs to go follow Pelissa on tumblr. She's (http://pelissa-art.tumblr.com/)  
> She's making a comic based off this story!!! And it's amazing!!!!
> 
> Second of all, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH? I can't believe the amount of support and love coming from you all. I can't thank you enough. ;3; I'm so glad I can create something you all enjoy so much! hnnnng.
> 
> The chapter banners are done by http://nobear-tmblr.tumblr.com/ ! Go check them out! And thank you SO MUCH for letting me use them!

Ice replaced blood. Robbie stood, horrified, at the smug expression on the elf’s face. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, something heavy that Robbie didn’t like. He’d just, effectively, signed his death warrant. In blood. To the devil himself.

 

Spencer leaned in close. It would have been funny, the elf needed to get onto his tip-toes to do it, but there was nothing funny about the show of teeth. Robbie managed a weak noise of protest before Spencer--

 

“I’ll be back for this,” Spencer whispered. There was the faintest ghost of a touch of lips, just beneath Robbie’s ear. “Tell no one.” 

 

Gone. Just like that, just like a summer breeze. No trace of him left. Robbie blinked rapidly a few times as his body started back up again. Movement, muscles,  _ breathing _ . Something heavy around his neck. With a frown he looked down and...how odd.

 

A crystal. It was shaped like a teardrop, tied on a leather strip to make it a necklace. It shone beautifully, almost-blue-almost-white in the summer sun. Without thinking, Robbie’s hand came up to touch the smooth stone. It was so  _ smooth _ , so heavy for something so small. Absently, he curled his fingers around it.

 

The tree, that moody Japanese Maple in the front yard, rustled dangerously. Robbie turned abruptly to look at it and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“I couldn’t find anything,” Glanni emerged onto the porch just as Robbie tucked the necklace beneath his jumper. “Nothing ‘s been touched. A few cabinets open but that’s it.” Robbie nodded distractedly, mind far away. “Go back to the market,” Glanni tossed the keys and watched with amusement as Robbie fumbled and dropped them. “I’m going to try and fix the fence.”

 

“Right.”

 

Glanni watched his cousin retreat to the car with a dreamy expression. “Weirdo,” he muttered. The Japanese Maple rustled at him and Glanni yanked one of its leaves off meanly as he passed. “You, shut up.”

 

 

“I can not believe that worked,” Ithro admitted. Sportacus was practically bouncing beside him as they wove through the trees. Occasionally, the younger elf would duck into a backflip, or a somersault, or just parkour his way up a tree trunk to do something dangerous like leaping between tree limbs. 

 

“Didn’t even have to trick him,” Sportacus laughed like winter bells and swung down to a lower branch. It was springy, and he used the bounce to pike in the air before landing on his feet beside his brother. “I left him my crystal.”

 

“Ah, I was wondering when your stupidity would rise.” Ithro snorted when Sportacus hit him. “You gave him your  _ crystal _ , little brother. He lives in a house with a black mage. If that other mage finds out--”

 

“He won’t.” Sportacus paused. Above them loomed the enormous oak, its branches hanging low and heavy with age. Beneath it was a gnarled spot, where Ithro was already lowering himself between the roots. “Robin will keep it safe.”

 

Ithro’s laugh bubbled up from beneath the tree. Sportacus huffed and jumped down the hole, feeling the rush of protective magic before the Den came into view.

 

 

The next day, the kids came over. Glanni of course opened the door, which resulted in a lot of terrified screaming since he had one of those bizarre face mask moisture things on. Robbie thought them too much work, he’d stick with his night cream thanks. 

 

“Just go watch Cupcake Wars,” Robbie pushed his cousin out of the way--why did he have to growl at everyone--before turning his attention back to the kids. Trixie looked entirely unenthused about being there, while Ziggy looked near tears. Stephanie, Pixel, and Stingy just looked confused. “What?”

 

“Hi,” Pixel interrupted before Trixie could cut in. “Sorry, I know. We’re annoying and all that--but. You’re like, really good with mechanical stuff right? I’ve seen you working on your car.”

 

“...Why?” Robbie leaned a shoulder against the door frame. Stephanie was looking at him strangely, or rather at his chest, but he didn’t really bother with it. Kids were weird, much like his cousin. 

 

“Well--”

 

“ _ I _ have a problem,” Stingy cut in. Pixel looked irate--okay so maybe he wasn’t so bad. “ _ I _ have a soap box car, and we have a race soon. But it won’t run.”

 

“Aren’t soap box races meant to be held on hills?”

 

“I made a motor,” Pixel chimed in. “Sort of.”

 

“It doesn’t  _ work _ ,” Trixie whined. “I told them it wouldn’t.”

 

“And I want it fixed,” Stingy said loud enough to shut the rest of the gaggle of midgets up. “Our race is in a week. And you’re going to fix  _ my _ car.”

 

“I thought it was ours,” Ziggy muttered.   
  


“Mine.”

 

“Fine,” Robbie interrupted. The kids looked surprised. “Bring it here, park in on my driveway. I’ll get some tools and we’ll see what we can do.” Pause. “Where’s your friend?”

 

“Spencer?” Trixie looked confused. “He didn’t show up this morning for stretches, so I dunno.”

 

“He’ll show up,” Pixel shrugged. “He doesn’t sit still very well, and he’d get bored working on the car anyway. Can I see your tools?”

 

“ _ I _ will go and get the car,” Stingy turned on his heel and stomped away. Trixie followed immediately, making a fuss about wanting to drive it. Ziggy and Stephanie ran after them, trying to keep the two from fighting. Pixel, for his part, was bouncing and had his hands clasped, waiting for an answer.

 

“...Don’t touch anything,” Robbie sighed and headed across the lawn. Pixel whooped and took off after him, right on his heels, already firing off questions about what kind of modifications he’d done on the sedan. “Are you sure you’re eight?”

 

“Ten,” Pixel offered proudly. “I’m ten.”

 

“Right. Whatever. You sure you’re ten?”

 

“Last time I asked my dads, yeah--whoa! Is that your garage?” The kid ran forward, hands up. The garage was Robbie’s pride and joy, after all, and he felt a bit of pride puff his chest up at the kid’s wonder. Shelves upon shelves, desks, hooks and hangers. The garage was full of wires and tools, half-put-together inventions, his sewing equipment (stores just didn’t have clothes made for his body type). Robbie paused, amused, as the kid tried running in every direction at once.

 

“Is this a--”

 

“Don’t touch that!”

 

“What about--”

 

“No--!”

Note to self; kids and band-saws do not go well together. Or lathes. Or soldering irons. Or--

 

 

Some time later, after a shower and make-up, Glanni decided to check up on his cousin. He could hear the screaming wails of mini-humans outside and had put off going to check on him for as long as he could. Insofar as he’d even done another sweep of the house.

 

Still nothing. And it didn’t  _ sit _ well with him.

 

Neither did the kids. But it was sort of amusing to step outside to see the chaos they could wreck. Robbie was sitting on the garage floor, legs akimbo, with both arms elbow-deep inside a tiny poorly-painted car. He had the most atrocious looking dome headphones on, and even with them looked near breaking.

 

The tiny yellow boy and the pink girl were wearing hats and glasses, pretending to have tea with some of Robbie’s funnels. The dark boy with goggles was sitting in the car and leaning over the steering wheel to watch Robbie do...whatever he was doing, and was asking questions despite Robbie’s headphones. The girl with too many pigtails was chasing the littlest boy around with copper wire.

 

“Gremlins,” Glanni crossed his arms. The girl with the pigtails nearly collided with him on her quest to torment the other one, and he had to move. Maybe she’d grow up to be interesting.

 

“There you are!”

 

Glanni jumped and turned abruptly, fingers curling against his shirt. The  _ elf.  _ He hadn’t managed to fix the fence yet, they’d need to go and find someone who sold yew slats. Too many pieces were missing to complete the circle. What bothered Glanni more now, though, was the  _ other elf _ . He was taller than the blond, with green eyes like spring leaves. And the worst colored shirt that Glanni had  _ ever _ seen.

 

“Spencer!” the kids cheered. Wires, hats, and tools were dropped abruptly as the gremlins all came running over. Even Robbie noticed, head snapping up. He shoved the headphones down around his neck and glanced at Glanni. 

 

“Hi kids,” Spencer high-fived a few of them before crouching. “This is my brother, Ithro! He’s going to play with us for a little while, if that’s alright?”

 

“Yeah!” Ziggy grinned. “Hi Ithro!”

 

“Hello,” the taller elf chuckled. 

 

“We were looking for you in the park,” Spencer stood back up, hands on his hips. “What have you all been doing?”

 

“Working on the race car,” Pixel chimed. “Robbie is super good with machines, so he’s helping me fix the engine.”

 

“But we’re bored now,” Trixie cut in. “I want to play!”

 

“Yeah!” Stephanie bounced. “Me too!”

 

“I think I’ll stay with Robbie,” Pixel offered hesitantly. “I know it isn’t interesting to you all but I like working on the engine.”

 

“That’s alright, Pixel. Why don’t we go set up a mock course for the car?” Spencer beamed at them. “You all can go and get your scooters and bikes, and practice. Ithro and I can be the referees.”

 

With a resounding hollar of ‘yeah!’ the kids took off, even Pixel, to return to their homes for their stuff. By the time Spencer had his attention back on Robbie and Glanni, Robbie was standing and they were both rather displeased-looking. Admittedly, Robbie was picking up the mess the kids had left, so it didn’t seem to be Spencer or his brother that was exacerbating his ire.

 

“Leave,” Glanni seethed.

 

“We’re just having fun,” Spencer swept past him gleefully, the wards no longer a threat. Glanni moved after him, but his elbow was caught by Ithro. “Hello, Robbie.”

 

“Spencer,” Robbie stood abruptly, hands full of...costumes? Spencer looked amused and plucked a stocking cap out of the pile to jam on his own head. “Give me that--”

 

“You look well,” Spencer ducked out of the way of Robbie’s grabbing hands. “Would you like to show me what you’ve done to the car?”

 

“No,” Robbie managed to snatch the hat back, arms much longer than Spencer anticipated. “I want you to leave. We’ve gone over this.”

 

“Have we?” When Spencer turned, Robbie looked...confused. Good. “Fine, then I’ll get to the point. I would like to borrow you tomorrow evening.”

 

“Borrow me?” Robbie’s shoulders relaxed. The weight around his neck, that crystal, felt suddenly much heavier. “For what?” 

 

“A ball,” Spencer leaned against one of the desks. It stank with the smell of iron, enough that he almost wanted to recoil. But he’d gotten somewhat used to it, and if his little witch was so involved with mechanics, he’d have to let it slide. “It’s a full moon, and I need a guest.”

 

“No,” Robbie dumped his arm full of costumes onto one of the tables. “I know better than that.”

 

“Glanni is going,” Spencer sing-songed. Robbie’s back went rigid and he turned to look for his cousin.

 

Glanni was gone. Ithro, too, had disappeared. Fear settled in, and Robbie met Spencer’s smug look. 

 

“Where did you take him?”

 

“He’s being prepared for the ball,” Spencer approached Robbie again, and Robbie let him. Or was too afraid to move--it didn’t matter. “You’ll come with me to the ball,” Spencer commanded. Delicately, he plucked the crystal out from under Robbie’s clothes. It hummed with magic, Spencer’s own starting to infuse with Robbie’s. A single point in which a piece of themselves was starting to sink into the other. “You’ll dance with me. You’ll taste wine. You’ll sing.”

 

“I won’t,” Robbie argued.

 

“You will,” Spencer glanced up at him again, eyes warm. One hand came up to trace Robbie’s soft lower lip. It took everything Robbie was not to taste that finger. “You owe me, Robin. A great deal.”

 

“I made no deal with you.”

 

“No, but you owe me for a compliment,” Spencer grinned. “I’ll come for you.”

 

Both men turned at the sound of running feet. The kids were approaching, dragging bikes and scooters and skateboards. Stingy was pulling a wagon as well, piled high with tiny traffic cones. It was a wonder where he  _ got _ some of this stuff. 

 

“We’ve got our things,” Ziggy chirped.

 

“Yeah! Where’d your brother go, Spencer?”

 

“He’ll be back. He ran home to get some snacks and water for us,” Spencer glanced at Robbie for a moment, brief enough to wink, before approaching the kids. “Come on, we’ll start in the cul de sac and branch out from there.”

 

“I get to pick the starting line!”

 

“No fair Trixie! These are  _ my _ cones!”

  
  


Robbie watched Spencer’s retreating back. Without thinking, his hand came up to curl around that odd crystal as if it could lend him some comfort. Glanni was gone.  _ They’d taken Glanni _ . 

 

“This is pretty much the opposite of how I wanted this to go,” Robbie sighed. Resigned, he was settling down again to work on the tiny engine when a thought hit him. Mostly it was inspired by one of the copper wires Trixie had been playing with. But he had other things besides copper to use.

 

“A ball,” he picked the little wire up and bent it between two fingers. “Requires jewelry.”

 

And jewelery required metal. Iron. And Robbie was  _ very _ creative when it came to his wardrobe. When he lifted his gaze, he saw Spencer and Stephanie setting up a make-shift starting line using a package of flower instead of paint. 

 

If he could pull this off, it would be a miracle. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Chapter six is here! It's...it's long. So I'm...sorry? Maybe?
> 
> Anyway! Here it is. I'm actually pretty proud of this chapter. c:
> 
> The chapter banners are done by http://nobear-tmblr.tumblr.com/ ! Go check them out! And thank you SO MUCH for letting me use them!

Robbie works. He works mostly to keep his mind off of things, to keep his mind off the lack of jarring, rude comments. The lack of bored whining. 

  


He stays in the garage of course. The kids are out running and skating through a make-shift car track. Pixel comes by now and again to see how Robbie was doing on the engine, but it really doesn’t take long to fix. So after a few hours--well after Ithro has returned and shared a smug, whispered conversation with Spencer--the kids were taking turns speeding around in the car itself, too.

  


Which in hindsight would be a good thing. Robbie knew it worked. But, still. He watched from the garage and kept himself busy. There was some metal plating he could use, had cut into strips and started shaping. The jewelery wouldn’t be terribly intricate, he didn’t have time for that. But it would be elegant and it would serve its purpose. Hopefully.

  


After nightfall, Robbie closed the garage door save for just a few inches at the bottom for airflow. The sunlight had been better to work by, but he was more familiar working in the fluorescent lights he’d installed since he did more work after dark than anything. The kids had all come by to say thank you about the car and returned home for dinner.

  


Well after nine--after everyone should be bedding down--Robbie was still sitting at his work bench with one of a couple of wrist cuffs he’d made. There was an abrupt, echoing knock on the garage door which made him drop said cuff in surprise.

  


“We’re closed,” he snapped despite himself.

  


“Are you,” Spencer’s voice was muffled due to the door, but still familiar. The air in Robbie’s lungs vanished. No, not tonight. The ball was tomorrow! “But your door is open.” Robbie blinked and looked down and, sure enough, there was Spencer. Or rather, here came Spencer, rolling under the open garage door and springing immediately onto his feet. “See?”

  


“How did you  _ fit _ under that?”

  


“It would have been much harder if I wasn’t a supernaturally gifted mythical creature,” Spencer smiled politely at him. Robbie sort of wanted to brain him with his stool, but figured that would probably turn out poorly for  _ him _ and not so much the elf. “I have something for you.”

  


“No,” Robbie held up a hand. “Ah, no. I’ve--no.”

  


“I don’t think that was a sentence,” Spencer frowned a little. “Try again, English isn’t my first language.”

  


“Nien. Niet? Bu hao. Non, no, nuh-uh, no way,” Robbie pointed. “I’ve  _ already _ gotten myself in trouble with you. I’m not accepting a gift.”

  


The smile that appeared on Spencer’s face was sort of attractive and equally terrifying.

  
“Smart man. But it’s not a binding gift,” Sportacus wandered over to lean a hip on the table. “On my Name, I won’t bind you for accepting it.”

  


“You’re lying.”

  


“Mm, no, I can’t quite do that.” Spencer cocked a brow at him. Robbie looked unimpressed. “I  _ can’t _ . Omit? Yes. Bend the truth? Absolutely. I can’t  _ lie _ .”

  


“I don’t believe you.” 

  


“You don’t have to, you’re still getting my gift. If it makes you feel better, I could just drop it outside and you could just happen to pick it up and keep it. What’s this?” he abruptly reached over Robbie to pick up one of the cuffs. Robbie didn’t even have time to protest before Spencer dropped the cuff and cursed rather colorfully, fingers spreading out.

  


Robbie grabbed the man’s wrist to watch. His fingers were already red and raw, like they wanted to blister.

  


“Holy shit,” Robbie blinked.

  


“ _ Iron _ ?”

  


“What else would it be? It’s abundant in this part of the world.” Apparently Spencer didn’t like that, yanking his hand free to hug it to his chest. “It’s for a costume.”

  


“ _ Don’t _ wear that to the ball.”

  


“It’s for a  _ costume _ , Spencer. If that  _ is  _ you real name.”

  


“I’ll leave the gift on your porch,” Spencer rubbed absently at his aching palm. “It’s a formal gown. You’ll be wearing it when I come to get you tomorrow evening.”

  


“A gown? I’m not a woman.”

  


“Robbie,” Spencer soothed. “You don’t have a choice.”

  


“You could at least ask,” Robbie muttered. 

  


“Please wear the gown? It’s made for you.”

  


“Creepy, but fine.” Robbie turned back to his cuffs. “Now, shoo.” He picked up his sand paper again and began rubbing it across the rough edge of the cuff. Spencer left at some point, as silent to disappear as he had been to appear. But Robbie was a patient man and he made sure to wait at least an hour before weaving back through the house. 

  


“Now to see what it is,” he muttered, pausing on his porch. There, draped across the railing, was a garment bag. It sparkled strangely in the moonlight, and when Robbie touched it it felt like smoke. Light, impossibly so. There were silver buttons, and he waited until he had the garment bag laying out on his bed before undoing those, too.

  


The gown was  _ gorgeous _ . It was made of a material softer than satin and lighter than air, and dyed the most incredible amethyst-purple he had ever seen. It was elegant--floor length, even for someone of Robbie’s height. When he held it up, it would still pool at his feet. The neckline was a halter-top. A series of silver chains braided together made the neckline, a clasp in the back. Inside the garment bag, too, was a braided silver belt that would hang down around his knees when tied correctly.

  


He found out the gown had a slit running nearly to his thigh after trying it on. He’d have to shave.

  


Oddly enough, no shoes came with the gown. Something about them dancing barefoot from one of his mother’s stories--

  


“Mother!”  _ Of course _ . He was quick to take the gown off and dress in something lazy--a jumper and a pair of pants he grabbed off his floor--before hurrying down the hall to the one room he almost never went into--his scrying room.

  


  


The Scrying Room was his Arcane Domain. Glanni spent more time in it than Robbie did, but sometimes Robbie would step in and just sit amongst his totems, trinkets, and tombs to feel the magic essence of his youth. The centerpiece was of course his scrying bowl, where he had bags of bird bones hanging in pouches off the main bowl. Off to the side, though, was his Crystal. Perfectly, naturally spherical. His mother had gifted it to him when he’d left her, a way to stay in touch.

  


“Mother,” he breathed as he sat down. “Mother please, I need your advise.”

  


Even with the lights off, the room seemed to grow even darker. The crystal hummed, almost purring, before a pinprick of light formed at its center. The light grew, swallowing the crystal, and cast errant beams of light across Robbie’s face and all over the walls. The errant lights began to move, streaking and waving until they coalesced into a single stream like a projector. The figure of his mother formed like mist in the light. 

  


_ “My sweet Robin _ ,” she cooed. “ _ It has been so long. I pray your cousin and you are getting along?” _

  


“I’ve indebted myself to an elf,” Never one to beat around the bush, Robbie just sort of. Blurted that one out. His mother looked, if anything, unimpressed. “And now I’ve got to go to a ball.”

  


_ “A Fae ball? Of what court?” _

  


“Of what--I don’t know. How should I know?”

  


_ “Usually by asking _ ,” she cocked her head. “ _ Do you know the elf’s name?” _

  
“He goes by Spencer?”

  


_ “Oh Robin. Do you know  _ anything _ at all about him? _ ”

  


“He has an older brother, who has kidnapped Glanni.”

  


_ “Oh good. _ ”

  


“Mother, this isn’t the time for sarcasm.”

  


“ _ Explain to me the entirety of the situation, little bird.” _

  


And so he did.

  


  


His mother bid him good morning as the sun was starting to crest the horizon. Robbie yawned greatly at her, which made her laugh. That was nice, her laugh. She’d been so severe all night, worried sick with it. His situation was less than wonderful, but apparently salvageable. 

  


He’d only thanked the elf. At least he hadn’t made a deal! Going to the ball, wearing the gown, should fulfill his small debt to the creature. He made a mental note  _ not _ to consume  _ anything _ anyone offered him, no matter how enticing. 

  


The one thing he didn’t ask about, couldn’t bring himself to, was the crystal. The little teardrop Spencer had given him, hanging around his neck.

  


Before he laid down, hoping to get at least  _ some  _ sleep in, he pulled it out from under his shirt to look at it. Where once it had been a clear-blue, it was starting to become more violet. How odd.

  


“Probably a bad sign,” he muttered to himself, but didn’t have the energy to worry too much about it. Not yet, at least.

  


  


  


Glanni didn’t know where he was, but he could guess. The packed-dirt floor, the  _ dirt domed wall _ s. The long, inctricate mural-like rugs on the wall, making an elegant backdrop for the dark wood furniture and an enormous wooden bed? Covered in  _ animal pelts _ ?

  


Also, the set of armor in the corner made from wood, but harder than any metal known to man?

  


Elves.   
  


“Shit,” he sat up abruptly, and his head swam. The headache started a moment later and he knew better than to poke at his temple, which was the aching epicenter. Vaguely he remembered Robbie being in the garage, and then some man with green eyes. Something about a ball? “Shit,” he breathed again and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

  


If he was in the Den of an elf, he was no better off than being in the belly of a beast. He needed to leave, now. Before anything escalated.

  


“Ah, you are awake.” 

  


Glanni twisted at the hip to look behind him. The elf appeared, damp from either a swim or some kind of shower. He shut the door--an enormous and heavy wooden thing--behind him with a solid ‘click’. Putting himself between Glanni and the door made things significantly more difficult. 

  


“Good. I would have you try on your attire for this evening.”

  


“No,” Glanni offered plainly. “I don’t think so.”

  


“Mm, let me try again. You will be trying on what I have chosen for you. And you will wear it to the event this evening.” The elf started towards a high, regal-looking wardrobe with wide double-doors. “The silver chain around your ankle. Have you noticed it?”

  


“What?” Glanni bent his leg up onto the bed and, sure enough. He cursed, fingers tugging at the thin chain. “What--”

  


“A bonding chain. It can be released only by the voice of the owner, which is me. A handy contraption made by a bog witch. Is it not a wonderful idea?” He approached Glanni with a smile, seemingly warm, and laid a black garment bag down on the bed. “This is for you. I had the court seamstress work all night on it. It would be remiss for you not to be grateful.”

  


“I’m not accepting a gift.”

  


“Then you are taking something that is required of you. I’ve already got your bound to me,” At that, Ithro lifted his wrist. A matching silver chain was tucked around it neatly. “I need not bind you with petty gifts.”

  


“This is illegal.”

  


“Oh,” Ithro looked amused. Glanni bared his teeth when one of the elf’s hands came up to caress his jaw. “But you are not part of my court, mage. And I am not part of your Circle. Your laws, and my laws, vary.”

  


“I  _ will _ kill you for this.”

  


“Little mage,” Ithro leaned in close and Glanni felt his breath hitch. “I would want nothing more than to see you  _ try _ .”

  


  


  


The problem with Elves, or one of the many, is that they seem to operate within their own world. That, of course, makes sense. They’re Fae, they do sort of have their own world. The issue currently is that Sportacus had said he would come to Robbie that night for the ball.

  


Come for Robbie that night.

  


So, like seven o’clock? Eight? After dark? Moonrise? What?

  


That left Robbie in a vaguely concerning position. When does he get  _ ready _ ? While he may owe the man the dance at the ball (inadvertently), and may not very much want to go (lie; he’s so curious about what he’ll see he’s practically vibrating), but he was going to look wonderful. These days he didn’t have many opportunities to go out all dressed up, so. Why not now?

  


The morning, after speaking with his mother, was dedicated to reading. Mostly about what humans imagine Elven customs to be. Mostly what he got was ‘long-haired effeminate elegance’.

  


He thought back on Spencer’s stocky build, short albeit fluffy hair, and bizarre mustache. Then looked back down at the book with dissatisfaction.

  


“Alright,” he snapped it shut and stood. “I’ll just wing it.”

  


This lead to him getting ready around four. Moonrise would be at six, so if that counted as ‘tonight’, he’d be ready. If not, he’d have time to fine-tune his outfit and accessories. 

  


One thing he  _ had _ noticed was Spencer--and Ithro, apparently--left their hair natural. It was brushed, at least, but just sort of...fell where it fell. That was a tragedy in Robbie’s case, but he also wanted to draw as little attention to himself as he could. He already had one Fae invested in him, he didn’t need  _ more _ . So instead of his usual gelled quoif, he brushed some lavender oil into his hair to smooth it back and called it good. 

  


He donned the gown again and, sure enough, it was pooling around his feet. If he wore heels, it may be less of a tripping hazard, but something whispered to him that the lack of shoes with the garment was deliberate. Alright then, no shoes. Still, the gown was...lovely. Robbie twisted this way and that in front of his mirror.

  


The back of the gown was cut out entirely, showing off the knobs of his spine, cut low enough that it was almost worrying where it came to a point just at the small of his back. The long, braided silver sash hung low on his hips and when he moved, it brushed against his leg through the slit in the gown (he’d made sure to shave, if not for anyone else, then for the integrity of the gown. It was so  _ soft _ against his legs). 

  


It was still the most stunning, deep purple he had ever seen. Would ever see, probably. Colors like this didn’t exist in the world of Man.

  


Next, the jewelry he’d made. A thick band-cuff for both wrists made out of metal, and he’d carefully decorated them with engravings of ivy-leaves. He hoped an ivy-nature motif wouldn’t  be considered racist but he knew exactly nothing  _ about _ Spencer and his culture besides the fact it was scary, so he went with something...pretty. 

  


A ring for each finger; just simple bands. If Spencer went for his hands, he’d be burned. It would prevent people from grabbing at his wrists as well, with the cuffs. The rings, too, gave him something to focus on, center his magic there if the need to fight came to be.

  


The cuffs, too, had a dual purpose. He’d charmed them; easily summoned wards could be used like shields, if just temporarily, should the need arise.

  


Robbie was armed, if in the way a witch could be. No need for swords or sabers. He had the energies on his side. And fashion. Fashionable  _ and _ practical. 

  


Lastly came the make-up, because he was  _ not _ stepping outside without it. He never did. That was one of the few things he and Glanni could absolutely agree on, and often fought about who was spending more time in the bathroom.

  


Anyway.

  


When all of that was done, Robbie studied himself in his floor-length tri-fold mirror in his bedroom. What better to see every angle? A little tug here, adjust the belt there, brush his hair back again because oil isn’t gel and won’t keep it in place for eternity--

  


“You know,” he asked his reflection. “I should have considered the fact that elf brought me a dress tailor made for my measurements. That is a little disconcerting now that I think about it. Hm,” he frowned for a moment before shrugging.

  


Oh well. He looked fabulous. Now came the hard part--waiting.

  


  


  


“What,” Glanni seethed. “Is this?”

  


“You are attending a ball on my behalf. You will be dressed as one attending such an event with me would be.”

  


“And who exactly are you, for me to need to dress so…” Glanni was nearly breathless. The outfit was  _ stunning _ . He always thought the ensembles  _ he _ created for himself were otherworldly, mostly because they were. But this, this he’d never seen before. His fingers played over some of the softest fabric he’d ever felt. It was shimmering like pearls had been crushed and woven into the rose-petal-pink fabric. It was lined in delicate, intricate embroidery work. Complex designs loving stitched into the hems of the long tunic, the sleeves and the leggings in gold thread. The neckline plummeted, and was hemmed in gold ribbon. A long, sparkling golden sash to wear across his chest. Even  _ jewelry _ ; an intricate golden collar, thick cuffs, earrings.

  


“Very important,” Ithro hummed. Glanni stiffened suddenly when hands settled heavy on his hips. Ithro’s lips appeared against the side of his neck. “And therefore my date is equally so. Do you like what I’ve chosen?”

  


“I won’t accept such nonsense.”

  


“Then you will wear it and I will take it off of you when the night is overnand return it to my seamstress,” Ithro grinned. “No gift.”

  


That wasn’t what Glanni wanted. He turned abruptly and snapped his hand out. It made a harsh connection with the side of Ithro’s face, four near cuts opening and leaking sluggishly across the elf’s cheek. Glanni curled his fist against his chest, fingers stinging. 

  


Ithro looked surprised, then amused as he touched the stinging cuts in his cheek.

  


“You are quite the viper.”

  


“I am  _ no toy _ ,” Glanni snapped. “I will char your bones, Elf--”

  


“Ah ah,” Ithro lifted a hand. “Remember the balance you are a part of now, Black Mage. Your sweet, soft cousin?” At the mention of Robbie, Glanni chewed his lip. The Elf had a point--Robbie was on a precipice. It wouldn’t take much. He had already gone and accidently indebted himself--however small--to a high ranking member of this court. Glanni had done nothing of the kind. But they were on the edge of deal, this elf and he.

  


Glanni was a selfish man. The deal was simple; Glanni, for Robbie. But Glanni knew there was more to it, too. Knew Robbie had been offered a deal as well--what that was he didn’t know. And there inlay the dilemma. 

  


“What court is this?” He asked, finally, settling on diversion. Ithro looked amused. “What?”

  


“This is  _ my _ court,” Ithro stood up to his full height. “And I stand on the side of the Seelie.”

  


Good news: Seelie. Still terrible people, but slightly less murderous (in theory) than the Unseelie.

  


Bad news: Glanni was staring down the Elven King of a Seelie Court. Which meant this  _ forest _ belonged to him. Which meant he had power, and a lot of it, the likes of which Glanni hadn’t faced before. Knights of a court? Sure. Simple common-fae? Of course. But a  _ King _ ? A royal member?

  


Glanni had never faced one. Ithro smiled in such a way that Glanni imagined he knew that information already.

  


“And where is your queen?”

  


“Good question,” Ithro approached him again, uncaring that the blood from his cheek was slowly oozing down his neck. One of his calloused hands came up to thumb gently at the corner of Glanni’s scowl. “If all turns out? I am  _ looking at him _ .”

  


  


  


Spencer arrived at eight o’clock. Robbie was in his house shoes, but other than that hadn’t changed from his attire. Actually, he found it very comfortable, and was reclining lazily in his chair and reading a novel on Summoning Circles when there was a rapid-fire knock on his door.

  


Since he  _ never _ got visitors, he knew who it was.

  


“Coming.” With a sigh he stood and closed his book. It was stashed haphazardly on the nearest bookshelf he passed, and he kicked his slippers off into a corner before going to the door. It was unnerving, those few seconds. On the other side stood a danger. An Elf, a Fae, someone made from misdirection and deception. 

  


Strangely, a compulsion to touch the little teardrop crystal around his neck for comfort overwhelmed him. Odd since he’d only just gotten the thing, and more importantly, from the man he needed comfort  _ from _ .

  


What greeted him when he opened the door was nothing short of a fantasy.

  


It was Spencer, absolutely, but in no way Robbie had seen him. Used to hoodies, and jeans, and sneakers, Robbie had never imagined what Spencer would look like when he  _ actually dressed like an elf _ . He seemed to stand taller; across his chest was a chestplate made of wood? But it shined like polished metal, and Robbie wondered if it would feel like it if he knocked on it. More of the same shining, intensely strong wood covered his shoulders in complicated pauldrons, over his upper arms, and bracers on his forearms. Even his legs had plated wooden armor, and beneath all of that? Satin, it looked like. A vibrant blue tunic beneath the armor over his arms and chest, and his legs were covered in some sort of leather that vanished into a pair of boots with soles so soft they made no noise on the wooden porch.

  


And there at his forehead was a circlet. Silver, like Robbie’s own accents, it hung in a braided ivy branch across his brow. In its center sat a teardrop-shaped casing, within which no stone was. Suddenly Robbie knew the crystal around his neck was far more important than he’d assumed, if it went in the crown on Spencer’s brow.

  


All in all, Spencer looked right out of a storybook. Robbie felt his breath leave him in a rush.

  


“Hello,” Spencer offered. His voice was cool, calm, and drew Robbie’s attention back to his face. The man was smiling, a soft, small thing that reached his eyes and made them sparkle. “You look…” Spencer’s eyes trailed over him for a moment before bouncing back up. “Stunning.”

  


“Is your armor wooden?”

  


Spencer laughed, bright and sudden like bells. “Yes! Ancient Oak, charmed and honed to be stronger than anything your Mankind can create.” Politely the elf offered an arm. “Shall we?”

  


“Are we walking?” Robbie laced his arm through Spencer’s and hugged his elbow loosely. Spencer seemed to notice the jewelry, scowled for a moment, then shook it off.

  


“Only a bit. My mount is hidden just inside the trees. I’m a bit easier to hide when need be. I see the gown was fitted correctly.”

  


“You’re lucky I’m content in my masculinity,” Robbie chided. “A dress? Really?”

  


“You look stunning,” Spencer repeated. “I knew that color was meant for you.”

  


“Flattery will get you  _ everywhere _ ,” Robbie chuckled.  _ Actually chuckled _ . For a split second it felt like Spencer was genuinely flirting with him, and it happened so rarely--

  


Rouse. It was rouse, Robbie.  _ Remember that. _

  


“That’s good,” Spencer smiled warmly. “I’d like to see how far it can take me. There, that is Wynndolen, my mare. We’ll take her to the ball. Let me mount and I’ll pull you up in front of me, alright?”

  


“She’s  _ enormous _ .”

  


“She’s a war horse,” Spencer bounced nimbly into the saddle. Robbie gaped at the sheer  _ size _ of the beast, never mind the fact she was  _ silver _ . Spencer leaned down to lift Robbie up like he weighed nothing, carefully avoiding the iron jewelry, to settle Robbie side-saddle in front of him. “Hold on to me,” Spencer beamed. “She’s fast.”

  


“Oh no.”

  


  


It was clear when they began to approach. A variety of things gave him a hint; the trees were tall, wide and old. The sky was darker here, the stars more vibrant. Music played, happy and bright and fast, and danced in the air like the smells of sweets, and wines. People’s laughter, the rhythmic thump of many feet hitting the ground in a choreographed dance.

  


The trees gave way to a clearing, and Robbe’s heart nearly stopped. It was  _ beautiful _ .

  


Lights hung from every branch of the massive clearing. Candles burned on wooden tables and stumps, holding trays of food and fruit he’d never seen before. People in vibrant colors moved around one another--some small, some tall. Some with wings, some with horns, some with teeth sticking out of their faces. 

  


Spencer stopped his mare and attached her to a post before offering Robbie a hand down. Robbie took it, though distractedly, mesmerized by the ethereal sight before him. Something about his distraction pleased Spencer. 

  


“Do you like it?”

  


“...No,” Robbie lied. Spencer laughed brightly at that.

  


“Come along. I have one more piece for your attire, and then we may join my court.”

  


“What?” Robbie trailed after the man. Another part of the outfit? Why didn’t he leave it with the gown? Maybe it was shoes. Shoes would be nice.

  


It was a flower crown, actually, that Spencer produced from a  _ bush _ of all things. It was gorgeous--braided orchids woven together with baby’s breath. Robbie blinked as the smaller man stood on his toes to reach and delicately lay it over Robbie’s brow.

  


“Perfect,” Spencer smiled. “ _ Perfect _ .”

  


“Sportacus!” A voice cut through. Both Spencer and Robbie turned to look and Robbie blinked as a woman, her skin  _ pink _ and a pair of fluffy moth-like wings behind her, approached. Immediately she began speaking in a tongue Robbie had no hope of understanding. It was fast and fluttering, full of consonant-sounding bits and bobs. Something in Spencer’s posture relaxed and he responded in kind, just as fast and just as melodic. 

  


After a moment or two, the pink woman seemed to notice Robbie. Her eyes went wide and she looked between he and Spencer quickly, before talking rapidly again. 

  


“I’m sure he doesn’t enjoy being talked about,” Spencer offered in English. She looked perplexed. “Verbina, this is Robin. Robin, my lead strategist, Verbina.”

  


“Pleasure,” Robbie offered stiffly. 

  


“Quite,” she replied, just as uneasy. “Sire are--”

  


“Yes,” Spencer cut her off. “Now if you’ll excuse us. Robin, would you care for some wine?”

  


“No,” Robbie lied again and let Spencer lead him away. The pink moth-like woman vanished back into the crowd,  _ somehow _ , but he knew. He  _ knew _ rumors were spreading. That fact was low on his list though, he had more pressing questions. “She called you sire?”

  


“People do that,” Spencer paused to allow Robbie to catch up. “It’s polite.”

  


“Do you call  _ them _ sire?”

  


“Only my brother, and only when I must.” He paused as a teeny-tiny person with enormous pointed ears and beedy eyes offered him a glass. Robbie could smell the floral drink from where he stood, and watched in fascination as Spencer sipped from it. “Mm. Here--”

  


“You won’t catch me having anything this evening,” Robbie interrupted. Spencer blinked at him, then grinned wide.

  


“Wise,” Spencer sipped the glass again and continued walking, albeit slower. It was as if he was showing Robbie the entire of the meadow they’d turned into a ballroom. People ducked their heads, bowed, as they passed. “And if you must know, because I can see the question in your eyes, no. I’m not the king of this court. Merely it’s prince. My role is more of head general than royal family.”

  


“You fight?”

  


“When I must, yes.” He stopped again and leaned his back against the tree. Spencer surveyed the party, and Robbie surveyed Spencer. “My brother is working on negotiations with a tribe of Drow currently, we’ve had a few collisions but we think we can work things out. It’s been quiet the last two years.”

  


“I’ve lived in that neighborhood for nearly ten,” Robbie looked flabbergasted. “I’ve never noticed any fighting.”

  


“And humans think we’re myths just as much as they think you and your magic are. And yet you exist, don’t you?” Spencer smiled at him faintly. “While I do enjoy meddling in the lives of mortal men, we don’t want them  _ dead _ . Not usually. They’re gullible, they’re  _ fun _ . They create amazing things. Admittedly, we’re a little jealous sometimes since we can’t play with all of them--what with the iron issue--but most of us aren’t out for blood.” Pause. “Some of us aren’t. There are rules about that sort of thing.”

  


“You have rules on who and how to murder?” Robbie cocked a brow. That made Spencer laugh again, eyes bright.

  


“Of course. Don’t you?”

  


“I generally actively try not to kill anyone.”

  


“As do we. Only--”

  


“Only when you must,” Robbie parroted his earlier words. “Right?”

  


“Or if a deal goes awry.”

  


“So you’re a mob boss.”

  


“Heir,” Spencer tipped his glass at him grandly before draining it dry. “Come on,” He set it down on a try, held by that same huge-eared tiny person who appeared from  _ nowhere _ , and took hold of Robbie’s elbow. He couldn’t take his hand, so he’d make due. “Come dance with me.”

  


“Oh, no. I’m not--”

  


“I’m not going to charm you to dance forever, that would be a waste of courting you.” Spencer tugged and Robbie let him, following him to the twirling mass of skirts and wings that was the dancing entourage. Spencer pulled him close, curling his fingers around the tips of Robbie’s fingers, far from the metal rings, and laced his other arm around Robbie’s waist. 

  


Their height difference seemed to mean little to Spencer, who began to lead him into a quick, three-count dance that Robbie didn’t recognize. Wonderfully, Spencer was a fantastic lead. 

  


“You fight, you dance, you kidnap children. What  _ can’t _ you do?” Robbie drawled. And maybe he smiled, when Spencer threw his head back and laughed.

  


“Drive a car!”

  


“You’re kidding.”

  


“Iron. They’re like death boxes, I hate them.” Spencer hummed, spun Robbie gently before moving him into a smooth dip before standing him back up. “The air inside them gets too stale. It isn’t so bad with open windows.”

  


“You’ve love convertibles.”

  


“Probably.” Spencer paused, only briefly, seeing something over Robbie’s shoulder. “Ah, they’re here.”

  


“Who’s here?”

  


“My Brother and your cousin.” Spencer stopped, and the twirling mass of people around them stopped as well. The band tuned out, leaving near-silence in the meadow, save the sound of crickets and birds. 

  


Ithro, dressed similarly in that bespelled wooden armor, approached a raised dias that Robbie hadn’t noticed before. On it sat an elegant wooden chair with an intricate metal fan on top. Ithro had a circlet upon his brow much like Spencer, though in the center of his sat a fat, square-shaped amber stone. 

  


And beside him was Glanni. The man looked sharp in a pearlescent-pink tunic embroidered with gold, and matching pants. Large gold drops hung off his ears, and a thick golden choker around his neck. 

  


Ithro speaks, and it’s in that melodic, bouncy language Robbie doesn’t know. It’s some speech, which people cheer and clap at at appropriate intervals. Robbie ignores him in favor of his cousin.

  


Glanni is looking right at him. Casually, as if scratching his leg, he lifts the hem of his trousers just enough to expose an ankle--

  


Robbie’s blood runs cold.  _ A binding rope _ . He met Glanni’s eyes, which slanted sideways towards--

  


“Your brother has my cousin bound to him,” Robbie hissed. Sportacus barely glanced at him. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  


“What my brother and your cousin do is not my burden,” Spencer hissed. “I have no jurisdiction over my King.”

  


“You’re his brother! You have to have him let Glanni go!” Robbie turned to him, expression dark. Spencer glanced at him fully this time, tipping his head. Something smooth and warm settled in his expression, but danger lurked beneath it. 

  


“And if I do?”

  


“What?”

  


“If I convince my brother to let your cousin go,” Spencer offered slowly. Around them, the party went back into full swing. Couples danced in a blur of color around them, spinning with the new song the band played. Ithro settled in his throne, legs out and apart. Glanni sat stiffly beside him in a smaller, but no less exquisite throne. “ _ If _ I can convince him...what, Robin, is in it for me?”

  


Robbie felt his throat run dry. A deal. But what could Spencer imagine is equal to his brother’s freedom?

  


“...I’ll think on it,” Robbie lifted his hands and they spun back into another dance. Spencer looked pleased. “Now, you said something about courting?”

  


  


  


“Can you feel it?” Ithro propped his chin up on his fist. His brother was a shining star among his court, bright with his polished armor. Accompanying him was that Robin fellow he seemed so enamoured with and, admittedly, Ithro was able to see the attraction. Robin was long and lean, the dark down stark against his pale skin. It twisted around long legs, occasionally teasing with the brief view of skin.

  


If Sporticus was not so enamoured, Ithro may have taken a bite.

  


“Feel?” Glanni asked, vague, eyes focused ahead of them. Ithro assumed his ward was focused on the same pair Ithro was. Despite the strange behavior of the man, he seemed very invested in Robin’s wellbeing. There was something about Robin. 

  


“My brother has laid a deal on the table. It’s in the air.”

  


“Robbie won’t agree. He’s a smart man.”

  


“He got himself here,” Ithro pointed out. Glanni wrinkled his nose in an ugly expression and turned to look at him. 

  


“And he will get us  _ both _ out.”

  


“We will see.” Ithro turned his attention back to his brother. Something was said between the young couple, something that had Sportacus grinning and had his date laughing. More than once he’d seen them scowl at one another--and yet equally, he’d seen them laugh. Not for the first time Ithro wished Robin had been Fae. It would have made his little brother’s life so much easier.

  


He also wished his brother hadn’t given the blasted mage his  _ royal crystal _ , but. Sportacus was still young by their standards. Young love was wild love, and Ithro couldn’t entirely fault him. He had a fondness for this Glanni, after all, and the sting in his cheek reminded him how dangerous  _ that  _ could be. Black Mages were nothing to shake a stick at.

  


  


  


“...And that is Abrodene,” Spencer offered. Robbie got a brief glance of a tall, deep-green-skinned man with long hair. “Kelpie. Drives me crazy. He’s one of the oldest members of our court, lives down south in a river. I’ve had to go and file more than one cease and desist order on him about breaking merry-go-rounds.”

  


“What for?”

  


“You know those colorful horses on carousels? It took him nearly forty years to realize they weren’t  _ actually _ horses. Or meant for intimacy.”

  


“You’re kidding.”

  


“Forty years,” Spencer offered solumnly. Robbie couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. He’d laughed more within the last few hours than he had in...awhile. Despite his attempts to stand firm in his ‘I will hate this’ attitude, he was having  _ fun _ . Spencer had quite a sense of humor, interestingly enough. Once Robbie could appreciate if he didn’t think about the fact Spencer wanted to  _ kidnap children _ . But, still. He was funny. 

  


The music was good. Robbie did love to dance, and learning the news steps proved both difficult and exciting. He was learning a lot, too, about the Fae and the different species that blanket term encompassed.   
  


Spencer, too, seemed to be having a good time. He had taken the iron jewelry as an offense at first, but as the night went on and he had more wine, he seemed to take it more as a game. How could he hold Robbie’s hands while they danced? When he wanted to show Robbie something, he’d hook the tips of their fingers together to drag him along. Introductions had Sportacus’ hands at Robbie’s elbows, and against his lower back.

  


Robbie would have been put off if he knew the bracers firmly prohibited the creation of mental glamours. The last thing he needed was a glamour laid on him and being talked into eating something.

  


Hours drew on. Face upon face, name upon name. Spencer continued to introduce him, pointedly in English, to the guests of the ball. The term ‘courting’ came up every time, which Robbie still didn’t quite understand. The elf had a way of diverting a topic to something Robbie had  _ very _ strong opinions on, and the question would get lost in translation.

  


They danced, Spencer drank, and Robbie...enjoyed himself. Some of the Fae were friendly, if not sneaky, and he had fun talking them in circles and then revealing he knew their end game. Some were mean. Some, the younger members, were curious as to why a  _ Man _ was among them. All too soon, it seemed to end.

  


Well, not literally. Robbie stifled a yawn behind his wrist while Spencer was talking with another man--this one an Ogre dressed in armor that...didn’t seem practical in the  _ least _ , and eating a slice of what Robbie assumed was a very pale colored apple. Spencer noticed the yawn, the faint dampness springing up in Robbie’s eyes at its aggressiveness, and gently excused himself.

  


“You’re tired,” he offered bluntly. Robbie hummed groggily and glanced up. The moon was setting, and if Robbie had a guess, it was creeping up on one or two AM. He hadn’t slept  _ at all _ the night before, instead spending that time on his jewelry and spells, and the lack of sleep was starting to get to him.

  


“I am. You all don’t exactly serve people-friendly coffee here.”

  


“The wine will--”

  


“I’m not drinking cursed wine,” Robbie stated, blunt. “I’m tired, not an idiot.”

  


“Fine,” Spencer smiled anyway, almost  _ proud _ . “Alright. Shall I take you home?”

  


“Will my debt be paid?”

  


“In full. One night of watching you laugh is more than enough payment for a compliment.” Spencer took his elbow gently and headed for the trees. “Come this way, my mare is a bit off.”

  


“Thank--” Robbie paused. Spencer paused, too, and more than a couple pairs of eyes turned to them. Robbie hissed through his teeth before finishing with a lame; “heavens for that.”

  


“...Indeed.” Spencer laughed, and Robbie felt himself smile as he followed after the warrior. The silver mare appeared some ways off, the sound of the ball and all of it’s partygoers muffled by the ancient oaks. Again, Spencer lept easily into the saddle and hefted Robbie as if he were nothing, and they were off.

  


The ride home seemed long. Robbie yawned again, fingertips covering his mouth politely, and Spencer chuckled. Robbie gave him a pointed look and absolutely did  _ not _ lean on him on purpose. The horse just jostled him and he landed with his head on Spencer’s shoulder, and maybe that was comfortable, because Spencer also had his arm around Robbie’s waist. Just to secure him of course. Definitely.

  


“Despite the circumstance,” Spencer whispered, voice quiet among the dark night air and silent trees. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. I do wish you had tried those pastries, the cherry ones. I think you would have enjoyed them.”

  


“They smelled heavenly, but I won’t fall for that.”

  


“Why do you assume everything I offer you is to bind you?”

  


“Because I’m not wrong.”

  


“....true.” Spencer hummed. Robbie smiled against the hard chest plate he was resting on and closed his eyes. “I can give you the recipe. You can make them with your own ingredients. They won’t be of the Fae then.”

  


“I’ll ask my mother.”

  


“Your mother?”

  


“Mm. She’s a forest guardian, she knows all about you all.” The noise Spencer made was choked, and Robbie looked up to find Spencer gaping at him. “What?”

  


“A Forest Guardian,” Spencer breathed. His horse came to a halt--the trees were not so old and thick, They were returning to the world of man. “In what sense?”

  


“In the sense that she’s...a forest guardian?” Robbie sat up, confused. “She said she was born of the forest she lives in, that’s why she doesn’t leave. It saved her, so she protects it.”

  


“Born of the Forest,” Spencer blinked. Then smiled. For a moment he looked dreamy, the horse starting to move again. Robbie didn’t like that dreamy look. “You’re a child of the trees.”

  


“I’m a Robbie,” Robbie stated blandly. “I do my best to wash my hands of the otherworldly.”

  


“Clearly,” Spencer seemed to focus again. Something about his expression was still odd, but it was warm. Robbie found himself resting his head back on the elf’s shoulder and closing his eyes. The arm around his waist tightened just slightly. “Go to sleep, Robin. I’ll get you home.”

  


“You had better.”

  


  


The Son of a Forest Guardian. No wonder,  _ no wonder _ . Sportacus watched Robbie as they rode, slowed to a walk. The flowers were still in his hair, the dark strands now falling around his ears and neck. The gown had fit him  _ perfectly _ , all curves and angles. The iron pieces were an annoyance but he was suitably proud of finding someone who was smart enough to come prepared. Come armed.

  


His little Robin was the son of a Forest Deity. A being  _ born _ of the magic of the earth. A precursor to Sportacus’ own people, the highest authority. No wonder he had been so drawn to the man, no wonder he had such a way with his garden, the power hiding in the recesses of his mind. Sportacus was older, wiser, stronger. But if given the right environment, Robbie could become a Guardian. A  _ deity _ . 

  


This was also a problem. The forest was the life of his people. They all but worshiped it, thanked it,  _ respected _ nature and thus those nature chooses as well. Robin was one of those--chosen by nature. Born from a mother chosen by nature. The last thing he wanted was to upset what was, essentially, the embodiment of the forest itself. 

He would have to tread very carefully. Prove to Robin that he was more than just tricks and glamours. That he could protect him, provide for him, and  _ love _ \--

  


Love him.

  


_ Oh no _ .

  


“Robin,” Sportacus shook his ward gently. “Robin, we have to dismount here.”

  


“Oh fine,” Robbie grunted. Sportacus slid off the saddle and Robbie...pretty much just fell off of it, giving Sportacus barely enough time to catch him. It was sort of amusing. “Where?”

  


“Almost there,” Sportacus smiled at him and wound his arm again around Robbie’s thin waist. The tree line wasn’t far, and Robbie’s home wasn’t far after that. It took another fifteen minutes of walking before Sportacus was helping Robbie up the steps of his deck and into his home.

  


  


The first flush of heat woke Robbie enough that he was more alert. Warmth, meaning his heater. Spencer was there, talking about something, and Robbie shook his head sharply. And then yawned again.

  


“I’m not thanking you,” he huffed and pulled away. Spencer looked suitably amused, hands settling on his belt. It was then that Robbie noticed the short sword attached to said belt. How had he missed a  _ weapon _ ? “You were armed?”

  


“It’s decorative,” Spencer hummed. “Deadly if need be, but mostly decorative.” The elf motioned at himself. “Prince.”

  


“Right.” Robbie rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Right.”

  


“...I’ll be going,” Spencer tipped his head a little, one last long look at Robbie’s form. Robbie blinked. Was the elf...was he purring? “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Robin.”

  


“I did,” Robbie was distracted. Spencer was  _ purring _ . Very loudly. “Are you purring?”

  


“Yes,” Spencer chuckled. “I can’t help it. I’m a bit drunk and you’re very lovely.”

  


“You purr at pretty things?”

  


“When I’m drunk, sometimes.” Spencer watched him with bright eyes. “You seemed to like it.”

  


“What?”

  


“Isn’t it what put you to sleep?”

  


“You’re doing it on purpose.”

  


“I’m not!” Spencer held his hands up, grinning. “I’m not. You’re  _ very _ attractive, Robin. I’m very happy looking at you.”

  


Robbie felt himself blush. Spencer lowered his hands back to his belt. Robbie did everything he could not to follow those hands down to, and below, that belt. 

  


“Yes, well,” he stammered. “Goodnight then.”

  


“Goodnight, Robin.”

  


  


Maybe Robbie should have expected it. Maybe he should have planned for this. How could he though? How could he know? It was almost slow motion; he stood, motionless, while Spencer reached up onto his toes. One callous hand settled against his cheek and then--and then they were kissing. Spencer was all warm lips and strong arms, coming up to wind around Robbie’s middle. 

  


Robbie’s own hands came up, like some kind of magnet drew them, to curl into Spencer’s hair. It was so  _ soft _ , and he smelled like berries and mint. And then there was his tongue and  _ oh _ , he tasted like sweet wine. Forbidden wine, wine Robbie couldn’t drink but this wasn’t drinking. This was just tasting--tasting Spencer, tasting danger. His fingers let loose of Spencer’s hair to crawl down his back and hook into the edges of the backplate of his arm and  _ haul _ him closer, chest to chest, and Spencer  _ growled. _

  


Robbie should have expected this. He should have planned for this.

  


But he hadn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go look at the adorable artwork by Cuteshitrightthere! http://cuteshitrighthere.tumblr.com/post/155515382877/cuteshitrighthere-maple-leaves-by
> 
> (sorry I can't format links yet???)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hello Glanni.” She turned to look at him. “I’m disappointed in you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE U GO I'm so sorry about the wait guys. I had a guest, and now I'm getting ready for classes to begin again next week. 
> 
> I'm hoping for weekly updates after this. 
> 
> Also i'm not sure how i feel about this chapter lol i'm not good at porn???

_ They hadn’t fought. Ithro had kept his word--had undressed Glanni out of those wretched borrowed clothes. Glanni let him. He let the elf touch him, touch his back, up his sides, count the knobs of his spine with his mouth. Why would be disagree? The elf was, however dangerous, very handsome. Very strong. So he let him touch, and hold, and shove him down. _

 

_ Glanni let the elf lay him out on his belly, spread his thighs and sink into his body. Glanni let him coax moans, pleasured noises out of him. Had whined at the dirty things the elf whispered to him; ”You like that. Being dominated, being held down by someone stronger than you. You’re lucky, little mage. I don’t do this for everyone.” _

 

_ He let the elf come. The elf was generous enough to let  _ him _ come too.  _

 

_ And then Glanni waited. Waited until the elf was asleep, breathing slow and even. In the dark underground room, surrounded by opulence, Glanni allowed himself a few short moments of peace. Then it was time to move. _

 

_ From the side of the bed, he managed to grab hold of Ithro’s blade. It slid out of the decorative sheath like a whisper and glimmered in the dying candle light. Sharp,  _ perfect _. He barely had to touch the edge against Ithro’s arm for a cut to form, for blood to well up from the slice. Ithro stirred, but Glanni was fast. His hand wrapped around the wound, which woke Ithro with a start. _

 

_ Glanni was off the bed in an instant, hand stained red. Ithro scrambled for something--anything--to use to defend himself. The Mage was armed with blood and an elven sword. That was dangerous.  _

 

_ “I’ll be leaving,” Glanni offered calmly. He lifted his foot, balancing on one leg, and ran his bloody hand across the binding chain. Then, he slipped the sword between his skin and the metal… _

 

_ The chain snapped easily, coaxed apart by the blood and metal of it’s owner. _

 

_ “Remember this, King,” Glanni pointed with the sword, careless for his own nudity. Ithro watched, stunned, as smoke lapped at the mage’s feet. “You’ve angered me.” _

 

_ The sword hit the dirt floor. Ithro sat on the bed, soft sheets pooled in his lap, and stared at the offending weapon--his  _ own _ weapon--the mage had used to free himself.  _

 

_ “Well, shit.” Ithro whispered.  _

 

\--

\--

 

_ Goodnight, Robin _ . 

 

Sportacus took a leap of faith and prayed he wouldn’t be smote by Robin’s rage. Admittedly, he’d never seen Robin use any sort of major magic, but the threat remained.

 

He had to kiss Robin. Just to see--just to see if the man was even interested. Of course he’d been bound by their “deal” to go to the ball. But was Robin more open than that? Would he-- _ could _ he--give Sportacus a chance? It was more than clear how uneasy Robin was with  _ what _ Sportacus was, and he wasn’t to blame. 

 

Sportacus hadn’t exactly been the most honest of men--but didn’t lie either. He had, perhaps, taken advantage of Robin’s naivety. 

 

Robin had had a good time though, hadn’t he? 

 

If there was a doubt, they were wiped away when the taller man touched his hair. Sportacus didn’t even pause at the burn from Robbie’s rings, just sighed into the kiss and pressed in harder. Demanding. Robin fell apart and let him in, let him taste him. The man tasted like sugar, like coffee. It was warm and comfortable, and then Robin was grabbing him by the backplate and hauling him  _ even closer _ and Sportacus couldn’t help the noise of triumph he made. 

 

It didn’t take much to get Robin back up against the wall. Sporacus kicked a leg out to shut the door--and with it coaxed some half-hearted wards of his own up around the house. Robin made the sweetest noise, pressed between Sportacus’ chest and the wall. 

 

“We shouldn’t--”

 

“Sh,” Sportacus cooed. One hand slid up Robin’s thigh, past the slit in the gown to touch at his skin. Smooth, shaved, and it was a little jarring but far from bad. Sportacus purred, nearly vibrating with it, and tucked his nose into the side of Robin’s neck. There, at his pulse point, he took a deep breath. 

 

Robin came easy when Sportacus lifted. The gown made it easy too to get those endless legs wound around his waist. Robin’s head tipped back against the wall and Sportacus peppered red bites along his shoulder where it was exposed. The burn returned to his scalp--Robbie was clinging to his hair--but for now Sportacus didn’t care.

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“Not enough to be confused.” The elf hummed and sucked hard on Robin’s pulse. The man  _ melted _ ; he arched off the wall and moaned, low and needy. It sent shivers down Sportacus’ spine, made the the hair on his neck and arms stand on end. “By the Goddess you looked  _ delicious _ tonight. Even with the iron.”

 

“O-oh, oh the iron--” Robin’s hands vanished from his hair (major loss, Sportacus nipped him hard in reprimand) for just a moment. He could hear the clatter of metal hitting hard wood and smiled. “There,” Robin curled his fingers back into Sportacus’ hair. “Is that better?”

 

“Thank you-oo--oh,” It was Sportacus’ turn to arch, hips snapping forward and grinding into Robin sharply. His hands slid down from Robin’s thighs to his ass, taking palm fulls of it and pulling him closer. 

 

“Wow,” Robin whispered, awed, and thumbed gently at Sportacus’ ear again. The elf  _ quivered _ visibly for a moment before his pur became a full-out growl. That was apparently startling, and Robin snatched his hands away. “Sorry!”

 

“No,  _ no _ , do it again.” Sportacus could barely talk about his own body’s possessive instinct. He growled, low and loud like a wolf, and Robin hesitantly--oh, so wonderfully slow--thumbed at both of his ears. The noise Sportacus made was obscene and, for lack of anywhere better, he yanked Robin off the wall and walked with him towards where he knew the sparse living room was. “ _ Yes _ .”

 

“You’re  _ growling at me _ . Look at your  _ eyes _ , this is  _ fascinating. _ ”

 

“I’m going to do more than that.” Sportacus dropped the taller man into the obnoxious orange chair. Robin sat with a ‘whump’, eyes wide. His lipstick was smeared horribly, and the soft fabric of the gown did  _ nothing _ to hide his mutual interest in their proceedings. Sportacus stepped forward until the shin guards of his armor touched the base of the chair. Robin glanced briefly at his belt, then back up at him, and  _ licked his lips _ . Sportacus’ breath caught. “You’re going to learn a lesson.”

 

“Oh, no I’m not really into that sort of--”

 

“No.” Sportacus tried not to smile. He was a war-worn warrior. He’d fought, he’d killed, he’d ruled in his brother’s absence. And yet standing here, with a wide-eyed Robin waiting on the edge of his seat? He laughed. “No, Robin--”

 

“Robbie,” Robin offered. “Please.”

 

“Robbie,” Sportacus corrected. “You’re going to get a lesson in armory. You’re going to help me take this off.”

 

“Leave the crown thing.”

 

“I’ll leave the ‘crown thing’.”

 

\--

Robbie could hardly breathe. Sportacus stood before him, a shining symbol of strength. The shining, dark wood of the plate metal against the pale chain-mail, and blue beneath. The way the leg plates fit together, showed off the breadth of his thighs, and the-- _ oh Gods _ the  _ sword _ . He was glad he was sitting down.

 

Between that, the messy fluff the elf’s hair had become, and the self-assured smirk on his face? Robbie was beat. Fair and square, hands down, take-down knock-out  _ beat _ .

  
“Okay,” Robbie breathed. “Yeah, I can do that.”

 

“Good.” Spencer leaned down and braced a hand on either side of the chair’s arms. Again, just briefly, their lips met. Robbie’s heart rate skyrocketed. “We’ll start with the Paldron’s. The one on my left is larger, for protection. The one on the right is smaller for ease of movement.”

 

“That’s the shoulder piece, right?”   
  


“Mm.” Sportacus watched him, too-close, as Robbie lifted his hands. Those eyes were so  _ blue _ , so intense and so focused on him. If he was shaking, neither of them mentioned it. “Good. There are buckles attaching it to my cuirass and rerebrace. Yes, those.” Sportacus ducked his head to watch.

 

The wood was smooth, and when tapped--very, very hard. It was surprising. If Robbie had been blindfolded, he’d assumed it was plate steel. Beneath the plate pieces were leather buckles, small but there. He carefully undid the three that existed on the left side. The paldron came loose and delicately, Robbie laid it on the floor beside him. 

 

“Good, Spencer breathed. “Usually these would be placed on a table to be polished. Now, the right.”

 

Robbie repeated the motion, laying the smaller paldron on the ground.

 

“The spaulder is beneath that, the articulated piece. It’s connected to the top of my cuirass and back plate.”

 

Those came off too, and were similarly laid on the floor. Robbie was positively  _ aching _ now, and Spencer’s voice was so calm and  _ smooth _ despite being the inebriated one. The elf barely moved, save for the occasional twitch in his fingers against the arm rests. That, and the occasional shift in his eyes to glance down at Robbie’s lap, where he  _ knew _ a dark spot was forming on the gown right over his arousal.

 

The upper arm plates--rerebraces--were next. After that came the cowters over the elbow, and the vambraces. Each piece Robbie delicately laid on the floor, one by one, for fear of damaging them. Not that he imagined he could, there were enough knicks and knocks in the cuirass over Sportacus’ chest to tell a tale of war. 

 

The cuirass came next, along with the back plate. They both had to stand for this since they only came undone on one side. Robbie helped lift it over Spencer’s head and set it, sitting up, on the floor beside him. Spencer smirked, then, and placed a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “Next, the belt.”

 

Robbie knelt, one knee at a time, before his elf. His fingers shook as he unwound the braided leather from around Spencer’s waist. The sword went with it, and he laid both on the ground. From here he could see Spencer’s clear arousal through the thick leather of his breeches. 

 

The cuisse over the thighs came next, the poleyn of the knee, and the schynbald over the shin. 

 

Spencer was left in those tight, thick breeches, his chainmail, the blue satin tunic beneath that, and his boots. And, of course, the circlet. 

 

Robbie realized he  _ never _ wanted to get up off of his knees, if this was the view. 

 

“Good God,” he muttered. “You’re gorgeous.”

 

Spencer just beamed at him, all teeth, and held out his hand. Robbie took it and used it to stand. 

 

“Think you can remember every piece and how to redress me?”

 

“Yes.” And he would. Robbie would  _ never _ forget how to redress Spencer for battle--or undress him after. What an odd thought.

 

“Good.” Spencer trailed his thumb along the swell of Robbie’s bottom lip. “You’ll dress me when we’re done.”

 

“If you don’t mind my asking...done with what?”

 

\--

 

\--

 

_ Glanni ran. Two words that just didn’t seem to fit right together, they didn’t sit right on the tongue. Or in the mind. And yet, here we are. _

 

_ Running fast and hard, lungs and legs burning. The trees seemed to bow in towards him; a panicked spirit on the wind. Desperate to shield him, hide him, drawn to him. They were a forest without a guardian, these trees, even with Robbie so close. They beckoned him. He wasn’t in his own forest, the one he’d inherited from his own mother. He could uproot and plant here, among these trees. Guard them, tame the wild Fae that claimed them, and make them thrive. So many had been cut down for the Humans, the trees were in pain. _

 

_ “I can’t,” Glanni wheezed. A root leaped up, caressing his leg--no attempt to trip him. Just to coax. “I  _ can’t _.” But oh, it was temping.  _

 

_ No, he’d seen Robbie leave with the younger elf. Hopefully they made it home, and not deeper into the trees.  _

 

\--

\--

 

Spencer talked to him, voice low and coaxing. No glamour, Robbie kept  _ some _ bit of sense. But he was just as tantalizing without it, in all honesty. The mail shirt came off, the tunic beneath, the boots and breeches. Ever near inch of Spencer revealed was just as angular, trim and slender. He was built for agility as well as strength. All kinds of slender, but wound tight beneath skin.

 

Nothing like Robbie--lanky, too-thin, too-pale. 

 

When Spencer was seated in the god-awful (but wonderful) orange chair, Robbie stood above him. Even with their height difference, even with Robbie towering over him, Spencer sat like a king. Like he owned the house and everything in it, including Robbie himself.

 

“Ah,” Spencer lifted a hand when Robbie went to undo the clasp at the back of his neck to release the dress. “No. Leave that on.”

 

“But--” Robbie blinked, then shuddered violently. Calloused, warm hands slid into the dress and began dragging themselves up his thighs--they took the dress with him. Spencer made a curious noise at the smoothness of Robbie’s legs, but it sounded more pleased than concerned. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

 

“Good. Come here.” Spencer pulled and Robbie was helpless but to follow, crawling delicately into Spencer’s lap. The gown was pushed up around his hips now, draping in too many folds over the front of his thighs. “You are exquisite, Robbie.”

 

“You were actually at the same party with me, right? Did you  _ see _ those people?”

 

“Stop that,” Spencer landed a firm smack to Robbie’s thigh, much to Robbie’s surprise. Spencer grinned at his yelp. “My court is run-of-the-mill and dreadfully boring, but  _ you _ , Robbie...you’re all kinds of interesting. Smart, gorgeous, witty…”

 

“Keep going.”

“Humble,” Spencer added with a smirk in the same breath that he pulled Robbie closer. Their dicks brushed, Spencer’s bare against the soft fabric of Robbie’s lingerie. Because he’s a  _ classy _ , and you don’t wear briefs with a gown. No. He’d long since bought more than a few pairs of satin-y men’s lingerie. 

 

He may have worn a dress before. But that’s another nightmare of a story for another day. Bubblegum is involved.

 

“I like these,” Spencer offers thoughtfully. He runs his thumbs along the seam of the panties, thumbing gently to slip under the fabric and brush along the soft skin at the joint. Merely inches from where Robbie wants him to touch, of course. “Very much.”

 

“I didn’t wear them for you,” Robbie offers blithely. “I know they look good.”

 

“I’d hope you would,” Spencer chuckled and pressed up. It was a slow, rolling motion that brought them together and Robbie shuddered, heat flickering at his spine like a fledgling fire. “Do you have oil?”

 

“ _ Oil _ ,” Robbie snorted. It took him a moment to remember, but once he did, he simply snapped and--there it was. The bottle of lube vanished from where it had been hidden and re-appeared on the arm of the couch. Spencer managed to catch it before it fell off. “Sorry, meant for it to be on the table.”

 

“You’re suitably distracted.” Spencer eyed the bottle wearily. “What is this?”

 

“It’s lube. The human equivalent of  _ oil _ , which we’re not using. I’m not a lamp.” Robbie took it from him and poured some into his palm. The scent, a barely-there floral thing--made him sigh. Pavlovian, almost, it had him shivering a little in anticipation. “And as interested as I am in your fingers, I don’t trust you yet. You sit back and watch.”

 

“More than happy,” Spencer leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Let me see you work for it.”

 

Robbie didn’t bother to grace that with a response. For the moment--for this sweet moment--he was back in charge. Carefully he lifted up onto his knees. Spence eyed the length of him, the way even here in the chair Robbie lorded over him. While Spencer looked his fill, Robbie tucked his fingers back under a thigh and pressed two into himself without really...waiting.

 

It stung. He had to hold his breath, eyes going foggy for a moment. It hadn’t been  _ that _ long. Carefully, slowly, he twisted his wrist to a better position. Some of the tightness eased and he felt his breath leave him in a rush. Spencer’s hands came back to him, smoothed back up his thighs to lift the fabric of the gown over of the way. Robbie felt a strike of pride while he watched; watched Spencer’s pupils grow wide and blown-up, the haze settling over them. The way his lips parted, just a little, to suck in a surprised breath. All from watching twist and spread his fingers inside himself. 

 

“Like that?”

 

“Add another,” Spencer whispered. “I know you can take it, yes, like that--Goddess Bless me, you’re gorgeous. Look at you.”

 

“Keep going,” Robbie goaded. Spencer laughed, a distracted half-hearted huff of breath, as Robbie spread himself on his fingers. Three was a little tight, a little too soon, but the sting was welcome. Something about Spencer made it alright, made that faint bite of pain  _ good _ . 

 

“Add another.”

 

“Better idea.” Robbie slowly eased his fingers out of himself--winced a little at the loss--and then poured some more lube into his hand. Spencer made a noise of distress until Robbie managed to get a hand around him. That noise quickly became a groan, and the Elf tipped his head back against the chair and thrust up. 

 

“Much better idea,” Spencer agreed, grunted and fucked up into the tight wet heat Robbie’s grip made. 

 

“I know.” 

 

\--

\--

 

_ Eventually, the lights of the neighborhood come into view. Glanni breathes a sigh of relief, more of a sob really, and uses the last of his magic to at least glamour himself some clothes. It’s late by now, well after dark and the moon already sinking. No one would be awake but it would be better to play it safe. _

 

_ Once he broke the tree line he felt the last grasps of the Elven King’s magic leave him. It was as though the magic itself was afraid of the human side of the trees. Too open, too modern, too much iron. Good.  _ Good _. Safe, for now. _

 

_ Now the last leg to get to Robbie’s house and-- _

 

\--

\--

 

“Sit still.” Robbie laid a hand over Spencer’s shoulder. The elf was gasping at him, breathing their shared breath. Still, he managed a nod and Robbie thanked him quietly. Some shuffling, adjusting later, he shivered and settled down over Spencer’s dick. “Don’t move.”   
  
“Just--” Spencer huffed at him, clearly frustrated. When Robbie started to settle down on him though, inch by painfully slow inch, that frustration grew ten fold. Robbie shuddered and Spencer was  _ growling _ again; low, guttural, animalistic. It touch something inside him, rattled something loose that told Robbie this was  _ good _ , this was  _ right _ , this is what you want. “That’s good--Robbie--”

 

“Sh,”  Robbie settled down in his lap, ass pressed flush against the dip of Spencer’s pelvis. They sat like that, panting at one another with hooded, barely-focused eyes. It had been a while since Robbie had done this, felt this full with another person. Toys, sure--he did that a lot. But there was always something special about it being another man. “God, look at  _ you _ . You’re dying for it.”

 

“ _ Robbie _ ,” Spencer hissed. His hands took Robbie’s hips, painful and bruising, and he thrusted that miniscule fraction of an inch left he could up. Robbie arched his back at him, gasped out a breath, and Spencer took that as his cue. He began a sharp, fast rhythm, heels dug into the floor to give himself leverage. That growling filled the room, filled up Robbie’s already foggy mind. He clung to the noise like an anchor, above even Spencer’s voice. And Spencer liked to talk, like he couldn’t stop. 

 

It wasn’t a language Robbie knew, though. But it was melodic, flowing, arching and waning and he was drunk on it. On the rough, wet sound when their skin came together, the shaking he could feel in the hands that held his hips so tightly. He couldn’t even  _ move _ , Spencer was a vice, leaving Robbie to whimper and gasp and pant for more.

 

Eventually, Spencer did something that left Robbie’s head spinning. He went from riding the man to being pinned beneath him, knees up by his ears and contorted uncomfortably in the seat of the chair. Spencer adjusted his stance, moved his feet, bent down over him to leave bruising bite marks hardly even trying to be kisses all along Robbie’s neck.

 

Neither of them even thought about the crystal. It lay, heavy and too-warm, against Robbie’s chest. It glowed faintly, gradually getting brighter in anticipation.   
  
Robbie reached at his own painful erection, and Spencer swatted his hand away. Instead he adjusted his stance again so he could pin Robbie down with one arm. His free hand circled Robbie’s straining dick and pumped him fast and hard to match the punishing rhythm of his hips. 

 

“Say you’re mine.”

 

“I’m yours.”

 

“Say you belong to me.”

 

“I--” Robbie choked a noise and arched his back. “Fuck--sure, I b-belong to you--”

 

“Swear it.” And that moment, Robbie should have feared it. Should have noticed the calm, level, almost monotonous tone in Spencer’s voice. If Robbie hadn’t been on the knife’s edge of orgasm, he would have took pause. Frowned. Asked Spencer to elaborate. Instead?

 

“ _ I swear! _ ”

 

The crystal, hanging heavy around Robbie’s neck, lit up the room. It was blinding, searing, and Robbie’s shocked sound was drowned out in the wake of his orgasm and the bright, painful glow.

 

\--

\--

 

_ “Oh no,” Glanni skidded to a stop. Briefly, he’d wished the elf had just taken Robbie into the darkest part of the forest and left him there, instead. He watched it, watched the windows of Robbie’s house light up like a lighthouse. He lifted his arms to shield himself--the light exploded across the street. The neighborhood was swallowed in bright, pale purple light. It was hot, like a sun spot. _

 

_ The light only lasted a moment, but the air had changed. Glanni almost ate concrete as he started running again. His legs whined at him, his lungs hurt.  _

 

_ “Well,” said a soft voice as he approached. Carefully, a tall, narrow woman stepped out from behind the Japanese Maple. “...This is unfortunate.” _

 

_ “Auntie?” _

 

_ “Hello Glanni.” She turned to look at him. “I’m disappointed in you.” _


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief Interlude

            “Here,” said the woman. Glanni watched her remove her traveling cloak and cover his shaking, exhausted frame with it. She didn’t look at him, however. “You’re naked.”

 

“Rough night,” Glanni offered, teeth pressed together. Still, it smelled like soil and herbs and _home_ . And how long it had been since Glanni had been home, and not here, failing at protecting his cousin.

 

“Clearly,” said his Aunt. She swept past him and into the house, the door opening for her as if knowing better than to bar her way. Glanni took a deep, aching breath before trailing after her.   
  
\--  
  
What startled him most was the light.

 

Glanni had been standing in the yard with his aunt in the middle of the night. Now, having set foot in the door of his cousin’s home, the sun was streaming in through the windows. His aunt looked none too concerned, but Glanni had to turn and step back out onto the porch.

 

The sun was high. It had to be near ten o’clock in the morning. Where had eight hours gone?

 

“…what happened,” came a voice from inside. Male, not Robbie’s. Glanni recognized it and felt like clubbing either himself, or the voice’s owner, with a bat. Repeatedly. “I don’t know—“

 

“You’re a child of the trees,” Auntie said. Glanni stepped back inside and pulled the door shut.

 

The house was a wreck. There was a half dressed, very distressed blond elf in the middle of the living room, surrounded by scattered pieces of plate male and—maple leaves?

 

“What does that have to do—“

 

“You asked Robbie to belong to you, did you not?” Auntie knelt by the distressed man. In the elf’s hands was a seed—how odd. It looked almost more like a rose bud waiting to bloom; thick violet leaves wound up tight into a point, faded from a deep purple at the base into the faintest twinges of ice blue at their tips. “And so you asked him to belong to the forest.”

 

“Please,” Sportacus whispered, pain evident. “I never meant for this.”

 

“What’s done is done,” Auntie sighed. Glanni spoke up, finally.

 

“Is Robin a plant now?”

 

“He needs to be made one with the forest he belongs to. His roots, and his magic, will overwhelm it and make the forest his own.” Auntie stood, and beckoned the elf to stand with her. “Glanni, put clothes on. You, elfling. You and I have a long walk ahead to where we will plant the Diety of your Forest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys. I'm sorry this took so long to add, and I'm terribly sorry that it's so short. It's very late here right now, this struck me, and this part in particular really needed to go up. Tomorrow, hopefully, I'll have time to sit down and write a chapter at length. We're coming to the end of the story soon, and I'm sorry I've left you all waiting.
> 
> Life has been...a trip, this last while.


End file.
